


Frankie Morales Box Set

by frannyzooey



Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 36,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26907832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frannyzooey/pseuds/frannyzooey
Summary: A series of one shots in which Frankie Morales shows you just how much he likes movie night.
Relationships: Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Reader, Francisco "Catfish" Morales/You
Comments: 40
Kudos: 71





	1. Double Feature

“I cannot believe you actually saw this one time already, let alone wanting to see it a second time”, you say, laughing while Frankie drags you into the theater.

He grins back at you, his eyes bright with excitement. “It’s so good, babe; you’ll see.”

Listening to him ramble on about the opening action scene that is so amazing, you laugh again when you see the theater is completely empty.

“So good, huh?”, you tease, climbing the steps to your seats. “Looks like it must have been pretty hard to get these tickets.” Your voice thick with sarcasm, you settle into your recliner seat when he leans over and roughly pinches the inside of your thigh. Swatting his hand away, you briefly slap at each other as he tries to grab it again, the two of you laughing as the lights dim.

“Now shhh, babe”, he scolds, his face a playful frown. “You don’t wanna miss the beginning.”

Rolling your eyes, you hook your arm under his, leaning towards him to watch the movie.

Frankie loves action movies - anything with loud explosions, fast cars, blazing shootouts. Usually watching them at home with his giant couch and surround sound speakers, he makes special trips to the theater whenever a particularly good one is released. You prefer to watch at home - that big couch and what happens after the movie one of the reasons - but he convinced you that this one would be worth seeing in the theater; something about the action being “too good for a little screen”. Never mind that he had a 65 inch TV at home; never mind that it was 9pm on a Tuesday.

You glance over at him, his face illuminated by the screen and he is literally grinning from ear to ear as he watches. Admiring just how cute he is, with his cheeks and his scruff and his smile that makes his eyes crinkle, you smile to yourself before turning back to the movie. You must really love this man to endure what is happening on this screen.

“Frankie”, you whisper, halfway through the movie. His head tilts towards you, his eyes never leaving the screen. “Frankie”, you giggle, your hot breath fanning over the side of his face. “Honey, this movie is so bad.”

He slowly turns to look at you, his eyebrows raised in question. “What are you talking about?”, he says, with a knowing smile. “I can’t believe you don’t like it.” He winks.

Poking him softly in the arm, you laugh and relax into him, leaning in to make a quip about the movie when you feel your seat start to recline.

“Shit; I think I — “, looking for the button, you stop when you see Frankie’s fingers holding it down and you look up at him.

“Frankie, what are —“

“Well, you said the movie was bad”, he replies, watching as your body slowing reclines into a laying position, the skirt of your dress pulling higher and higher as your body stretches out. His eyes on your thighs, he smirks and continues. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind missing some of it.”

Your mouth open in surprise at what he is suggesting, he is fast when he pushes himself out of his seat and climbs on top of you, settling his knees in between yours and slowly lowering his heavy body to rest against you. Taking his hat off and tossing it on the seat next to you, he leans down and glides his nose over your temple, across your cheek, his mouth a hot whisper in your ear. “What do you think, babe”, he asks, slowly pushing his jean clad hips into yours. “Think we can be quiet?”

Immediately after asking this question, a giant explosion booms out of the speakers, making both of you jump and Frankie drops his face into the crook of your neck, his body shaking yours with laughter as you cradle the back of his head and laugh into his shoulder.

“Maybe we won’t have to be”, he says, a playful lilt to his voice when he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Frankie”, you say, your arms lightly wrapped around his shoulders, palms resting on the soft flannel there. His nose skims along your neck as he hums in response to his name, before pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “Frankie, what if someone comes in?”

You feel him smile against your skin when he answers. “You said it yourself, no one wants to see this movie. No one’s coming in here; don’t worry about it.”

His hips move against yours with a roll, his belt buckle digging into your soft belly and you can feel how hard he is through his pants, pressing against the crotch of your underwear. Opening your legs wider, he reaches down and drags the hem of your skirt up over your hips, sliding his hand down under the waistband of your panties.

“Frankie, I’m ser—“, you whisper, before he cuts you off with it kiss. Pressing his lips into yours, he glides his tongue along the seam of them, silently begging for you to open up and when you do, he licks deep into your mouth, his tongue pressing forward and mimicking the roll of his hips.

Leaving you breathless, he breaks away from the kiss and moves down to your throat, sucking the skin there into his mouth and dragging his teeth over it while his hand continues down into your panties; two thick fingers stroking along your seam before dipping into you. Shallow at first, he parts you with his fingers, dragging your slick up from your center to gently circle your clit.

“I’m right here, baby”, he soothes, his fingers gliding, gliding, gliding; his mouth moving against your neck. Pulling back to make sure you’re okay, he is pleased to see your eyes are closed, your mouth open in pleasure as you concentrate on what his hand is doing. A quick glance at the movie and he times it right: pushing two fingers into you just as another explosion booms out, but this time neither of you pay attention to the sound; he can’t hear it, but he feels you moan when his fingers slide in, the vibration of it against his chest.

“You feel so good, baby”, he tells you, stroking inside of you as your hips try to arch up against his hand, but the weight of his body presses you don’t into the seat. He watches his own hand move against you, two thick fingers inside with his thumb on your clit and the light of the movie flickers, showing how wet you are. “I think this pretty pussy is ready for me, don’t you think?”

Nodding frantically, you murmur yes, yes and he kisses you roughly, pulling his hand away and fumbling with his belt, his knuckles brushing against your sensitive folds while he works it open. You reach down to help, quickly undoing the button and zipper of his jeans and reaching in to pull him out; his pants pulled down just enough, his cock heavy and hot in your hand.

Your mouths still moving together, they stop, only resting open against each other as he pushes your panties to the side and fills you with a stretch; loud gunfire drowning out the loud groan from both of you with how good it feels.

He works fast, knowing he has to and you hitch your legs higher around his waist as he thrusts into you, his hand reaching to cover your breast, squeezing it through the cotton of your dress. Running your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck, you pull his throat down to your mouth and can feel a groan under your lips as you give the skin there open mouthed kisses.

The movie continues to play in the background, the flickering lights of the screen illuminating your features and Frankie is mesmerized by how undone you look underneath him, your head tipped back into the seat, your hips grinding up against his.

Maybe it’s his pace, or the weight of his body pressing down on your clit just right or the thrill of getting caught, but you feel a low, slow building of pressure between your hips and Frankie feels it too in the way you bare down on him.

“Come on, baby”, he huffs out, his thrusts heavier and faster now. “Are you gonna come for me?” And when you say yes, looking right into his eyes with a pleading look, he keeps talking. “Think about how I’m filling you up right now with my cock. Doesn’t it feel good?”

The battle still raging on the screen, you don’t care how loud you are when you moan yes; yes you feel so good Frankie and he smiles, brushing your hair back from your temple before resting his lips there.

“Think about how I’m gonna fill you up with my come, okay?”, he murmurs against your skin and the thought drives you closer to release and you arch into him, your body taut under his.

“Yes, baby, you’re squeezing me so tight; I love fucking this pussy.”

Pulling your thigh tight up over his hip, his thrusts are sharp and heavy and quick; a one, two, three and you come, clenching down on him so tight you hear his breath catch in your ear. His grip tightens on your skin when he comes, pinching the flesh there as you feel him thrust in a couple more times as he spills into you; his ass flexing with the effort under your heels.

Panting heavily, he keeps his cock inside as his body settles into yours, resting his head on your shoulder and you stroke his thick, dark hair; the colors of the screen muted over the curls.

A GIANT boom shakes the theater, a building exploding on screen and the both of you jolt, your arms pulling him tight to your chest and your cunt clenching down on his and the two of you immediately laugh.

“Jesus Christ”, he grins, pulling out of you with a hiss. Tucking himself back in his pants, he climbs off of you while you press the buttons to bring the seat back into a seated position. When you are ready, he pulls you up into a hug, his strong arms wrapped around you tight as he kisses you deeply, his mouth humming against yours.

Reaching down, his fingers tickle your thigh when he pulls the hem of your skirt back up, sliding the pads of his fingers up between your legs. Another groan into the kiss when he feels how slick you are, his come dripping out of you, slippery between your thighs.

“I think”, he says, fingers still exploring the slick and his mouth against yours, “we should go home and make this a double feature.”

You smile, thinking about that big, soft couch and what he likes to do to you on it. 

“I think”, you reply, your tongue skimming along his bottom lip, “I’ll do anything to get out of watching the rest of this terrible movie. Let’s go.”


	2. Be Kind, Rewind

“Oh my god”, Frankie says in a half laugh, half groan; pausing to stand in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re watching this again?”

“Shh, it’s just at the good part”, you reply, waving your hand to signal for him to stop talking.

Admiring the way you are stretched out on the couch right now, he is distracted by the way your dress has ridden up on your thighs; your leg draped over the back of the cushions and your arms up under your head, resting on a throw pillow. When he walks into the room, you pay him no attention, thoroughly absorbed in the movie.

Sitting down on the couch by your foot, he rests his warm hand on your ankle, his thumb softly stroking the skin there and frowning at the screen before turning to tease you.

“How many times are you gonna watch this, babe?”

Your eyes not leaving the screen, you hold your palm up to him and he smiles, circling your ankle with his fingers. He knows you have seen this particular movie a million times - even he could mouth the dialogue of the two leads right now, as they confess their undying love to each other. Watching your face, he feels a swell of affection at how absorbed you are in what’s happening on the screen. A small smile on his face, he slowly slides his hand up your calve, his rough fingers tracing along the inside of your knee and you reach down and grab his hand, stilling it against your leg.

“Frankie”, you scold, your eyes still on the screen. “Honey, this is the best part.”

“What?”, he replies, his fingers pressing into your skin. “I didn’t say anything. Keep watching.”

Glancing at him for a second with a knowing look, a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth when you resume watching the movie.

Waiting a moment before pushing you further, he slowly slides his broad palm up the inside of your thigh, stopping at the hem of your dress. Gently lifting the fabric, he peeks underneath, flicking his eyes between your face and the crotch of your underwear and when you say nothing, he drops the fabric back down and shifts closer to you, lifting your leg across his lap.

When you start to protest, he shushes you. “Keep watching the movie, baby”, he says softly.

Twisting to the side, he waits until your eyes are back on the TV before smoothing his hands up your thighs, up under the fabric of your skirt and he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties, sliding them down over your ass while you lift your hips to help him. Your leg coming down off the back of the couch, he pulls them all the way off and tosses them on the floor before placing his hands on your knees, pulling them apart. Gently pushing the material of your skirt up and resting it on your belly, he admires the way you look, spread out before him on this warm afternoon; the soft sunlight streaming through the window onto your hair, the distant laughter of the neighbors eating out on their deck coming through the open window, the gentle music of the romantic regency movie in the background.

When he puts his mouth on you, you arch your hips up towards the wet heat of it, his tongue gently parting you before gliding his nose against your clit, rubbing slow circles into it. Opening his mouth wide, his bottom lip catches against your entrance as the flat of his tongue slides up, once, twice before the tip of it presses against that bundle of nerves, holding tight for a moment before sliding back down to slip inside of you. Pulling your hips closer to his face, your skirt rides up further as it drags against the couch and he splays his broad hand over your mound, his fingertips digging into your soft belly, his thumb firmly on your clit, rubbing tight circles into it. His tongue buried inside you, you whimper and breath hard out of your nose; your hands pushing through his lose waves and pulling him closer to your core.

“Frankie”, you moan softly, forgetting the movie. “Honey, that feels so good. Please don’t stop, I want it just like that.”

He hums an answer of yes into your pussy and it’s bliss the way he eats you, spread out on this soft couch, the air warm against your bare legs, the soft cotton of his shirt under your heels. His hair is so silky under your hands and when you give it a tug, his eyes look up at you; small crinkles appearing when he smiles against your soaked folds before moving his thumb out of the way so he can suck on your clit.

Drawing it into his mouth only for a moment, he suddenly pulls away, resting his chin on your thigh as you look down at him. 

“What are you doing? I said I wanted you to keep going.” Your face is flushed, your chest heaving as your high slowly drops back down. 

“What?”, he replies, the very picture of innocence. “I wanted to see this part.” A mischievous smile spreads over his features as he turns his face towards the TV. 

“Frankie, if you don’t –”, your voice cut off by a sharp inhale when he puts his mouth back on you and your nails drag against his scalp. You can feel the smile on his face as he keeps sucking, his plush lips wrapped tight around it and your back arches up off the couch when you cry out, the pressure of it rolling waves of heat through your hips and down.

“Come on, baby”, he murmurs, lapping against you. “I want you to come on my face.”

His words and his mouth and the way it moves against you; it all comes together and tips you over the edge and you come with a low groan, your heels digging between his shoulders to keep him right there as he licks you through it. 

Waiting for your thighs to loosen around his face, he presses kisses to the soft skin while reaching down to undo the button of his pants, the drag of the zipper loud against the couch and when he pulls himself out, he crawls up over your body and rests his weight on you; the hot, blunt tip of his cock sliding in with how open and wet you are. Wrapping your arms around his back, he leans down to kiss you and you taste yourself in his mouth, his tongue gliding against yours.

His jeans are rough against the inside of your thighs when he pushes into you with a soft hitch in his breath, the tight heat of your body wrapping around his cock and he can’t believe how good you feel; how good you always feel.

“Are you this soaked because I ate your pussy”, he asks, pulling out and pushing back in, “or because you want my cock so bad?”

A ragged breath when you exhale, your eyes closed in a frown, your jaw slack with pleasure. “Frankie, I —“

“Or wait”, he taunts in an impossibly low voice. “Is it because the neighbors are right outside?”

Completely forgetting about the neighbors, you picture their deck and patio table, the way you can see it clearly from the living room window and how they definitely would be able to hear what is happening inside this house, on this couch; on this lazy afternoon.

Fucking you slow and sweet, he dips his fingers just under the low neckline of your dress, skimming the tops of your breasts as they peek out and he undoes the top button, then the second; the lace of your bra just visible.

“You are so beautiful, baby”, he tells you, his nose skimming along the exposed flesh spilling out of your bra. “You always look so beautiful in these dresses. Did you know that?”

Turning himself on even more as he looks at your chest, he pushes into you roughly, picking up the pace and licks a stripe up between your breasts before gently biting the soft skin of one, leaving a red mark behind.

“Every time you wear one, I just wanna fuck you.” A deep stroke in. “Just like this.” Another stroke. “Right on this couch.” Another.

When he strokes against the spot deep inside you, you press your head back into the throw pillow and let out a loud moan. Reaching down, he roughly tugs your dress up past your hips and up over your chest, bunching the fabric in his fist.

“Now, we wouldn’t want the neighbors to hear you getting fucked, would we?”

You frantically shake your head no, swallowing thickly as he rolls his hips into yours.

“Good, those sweet sounds are just for me.”

Pushing the bunched fabric into your mouth, he strokes the hair away from your face and looks down sweetly at you, his warm brown eyes darkening at the sight of the fabric dampening in your mouth. He keeps his eyes on your face when he reaches down to press his thumb gently to your clit while he strokes in and you close your eyes; your cry muffled by the fabric.

Keeping his thumb there, he picks up the pace of his thrusts, his foot bracing against the cushion on the couch for leverage. It’s so much, so overwhelming the full stretch of him coupled with the weight of his body behind each thrust, the strength of his hand pressing down on your clit and he groans when he feels a fresh, leaking wave of slick soak his cock; your walls fluttering around him.

“You feel so fucking good, baby”, he pants out, his hips rocking fast against yours. Meeting his thrusts as best as you can, your fingers clutching the soft material of his shirt over his lower back, he drops his forehead down to yours and rests it there; his eyes shut tight.

“Jesus, yes; just like that.”

Thinking about how many times he has fucked you like this, on this couch: on hazy afternoons, on rainy, sleepy ones, the first night after you bought the couch and after every movie night since, you feel your pussy tighten around him with every stroke inside, your whimpers muted against the damp fabric in your mouth.

He can tell you are close, the way you are squeezing him like this and works your clit faster, no longer pulling his thick cock out but grinding it into you and come with a cry, arched off the couch into his body as the wave of heat is sharp at first, slowly spreading through your hips and up into your breasts.

Sagging back into the couch, you reach up to pull your dress out of your mouth and he immediately kisses you; his lips catching on yours with how dry yours are. Moaning into your mouth, you swallow his deep sounds as he keeps thrusting and when you break away from him and say please, baby, please come, he does, his body curling into yours as he clutches the pillow behind your head, his other hand with his fingers digging into your hip to keep you still for him.

Heavily breathing, he immediately kneels between your legs, keeping you spread wide so he can watch the milky mixture of come drip out of you and he whimpers at the sight, reaching out to dip the pads of his fingers in it before bringing them to his mouth with a satisfied him.

“Come back down here”, you coo, your arms outstretched in welcome. “Come lay with me, Frankie.”

Tucking himself back into his pants, he is still winded when he takes a last look at your soaked center and lays down on top of you, his head resting on your chest.

“Sorry I interrupted your movie, baby”, he apologizes, his fingers skating along the edge of your bra. “Or actually”, his eyes looking up from your chest, bright with affectionate teasing, “maybe I’m not sorry? I don’t think I could take watching it again.”

“Oh don’t worry, honey”, you say, one hand brushing a wave of hair back away from his brow, the other reaching for the remote with a stretch. “I’m gonna rewind it.”

Sagging into your body with a huff of a laugh, Frankie slides his arms under your torso, wrapping them tight around you as he settles his head on your chest. Shifting until he is comfortable, you wait until he stops, holding your finger over the button on the remote. 

“Ready?”, you ask. 

Chuckling at your single mindedness in wanting to watch something you’ve already seen a million times, he presses a kiss to the swell of your breast before resting his hand on top of it with a light squeeze. 

“Go ahead and press play, baby. I’m ready.”


	3. Roll the Credits

The light from the TV flickering across Frankie’s face, you can see the tension in his neck as he tips it back against the couch with a soft groan, his hands restlessly rubbing the cushion underneath him.

Kneeling between his legs, you rest your forearm on the firm muscle of his thigh, your hand in the crease of his hip to hold him down as your other hand strokes his cock; thick and stiff under your grip. Swiping your thumb over the tip of it, he tries to arch up into your touch, but you hold him steady as you repeat the motion.

“Jesus Christ, baby”, he lowly groans, his thigh bunching under your forearm.

“This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?”, you ask, your voice like velvet in the dark room.

Nodding his head, another groan crawls out of his throat when you squeeze him tighter.

Tonight’s movie was a thriller; something that sounded better than it ended up being. Bored, Frankie had been distracted the whole two hours by the way your body pressed against his on the couch, your plush thigh leaning against his lap, the palm of your hand just on the inside of his thigh. He leaned over a couple of times during the movie and kissed your neck gently, his cock hard against his leg in his jeans, but you pretended not to notice; only smiling sweetly at him and returning your attention back to the movie.

As soon as the credits started rolling, he turned and tried to push you back down on the couch, but instead you slid to the floor, kneeling between his knees and pulling his hips forward before you worked his belt open to pull him out.

His eyes on you, you followed his gaze downward where it was fixed on your chest; his favorite dress because it had buttons on the top. Two that you had purposely left open; the sight of it driving him crazy as he glanced at it during the movie, watching the colors flash against your skin.

“You were such a good boy, baby”, you coo, your hand never stopping. “You did such a good job waiting that whole movie for me.”

You wait, watching his throat flex with a swallow before looks down at your hand; at those two undone buttons.

“You wanted it though, didn’t you?”, you ask, scooting forward slightly to make sure the tip of his cock skimmed against the tops of your breasts as you stroked him. “You wanted to fuck me that whole movie. I could tell, baby.”

“Fuck”, he pants, “Yes. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” A drop of precome spurts out of his cock and you swipe the fat head of it with your thumb again, dragging it down the thick shaft to make your strokes more fluid.

You smile and hum in response. “Well, now the movie is done, so we can do whatever you want. What do you want, Frankie?”

His answer is breathless and immediate. “This. You.”

Leaning forward, you point the tip of his cock towards your open mouth, breathing hot on the head of it, resting it against your wet lower lip and a whimper comes from him as he grips your forearm that’s resting on his leg.

“Do you want this?”, you ask, your lips brushing against the tip.

“Yes, yes, I —“

“Or do you wanna come on my tits, Frankie? I’ve seen you looking at them all night.”

“I’ll do whatever you want, baby, fuck—“, he is close, the way he can’t even look at you right now, your face sinful in the shadow of the room, your soft hand so tight.

“Francisco”, you purr and his cock instantly swells under your hand. Pushing up the hem of his soft shirt, you swipe your hand over the sparse hair that covers his soft belly, the pads of your fingers stroking it gently while you continue to stroke him with your other hand. “Come on, baby. Come on my tits, okay?”

“Fuck”, he grits out, the first spurt of come dripping out and running down over your hand, before you pump the rest of it out, the both of you watching as it splashes on your tits. His stomach is tight under your hand, you work him until he stops your hand with a shuddered breath and he is dumb with arousal when he watches you lick the milky come off of your hand, your tongue dipping between your fingers while you keep your eyes on him. 

Standing up, you reach under your dress and pull your panties off while he lifts his hips and pulls his pants up, immediately sliding forward on the couch to lift your dress and place his hands on your hips as you use the silky material to gently wipe his come off. Pressing a kiss to your hips; one, then the other, then to the tuft of hair covering your mound, he strokes you between your legs and you toss your panties on the floor, running your hair through his long, soft hair. 

“You have such a pretty pussy, baby”, he murmurs, kissing you on your soft belly; rubbing his warm, dry hand on your knee where it is red from kneeling. The sound of his deep voice in the dark room makes you unbearably wet.

Laying down on the couch, he shuffles to get comfortable before reaching out for you. 

“Come sit on my face, baby - I wanna taste it.”


	4. Afternoon Matinee

It started this morning, when he crawled out of bed with a stretch and looked over at you still sleeping; your shirt tangled around your torso, riding so high up that a peek of your breast was showing. Just the bottom; his favorite part. He wanted to get back in bed and stroke the soft skin with his fingers, maybe touch it with his tongue but you looked so peaceful in your slumber that he let you stay asleep; lingering just for a moment more before quietly padding out of the room.

Then this afternoon; you announcing there was no clothing left and finally doing the laundry, you emerged from the bedroom wearing only one of his old, shrunken shirts and some soft shorts, your thighs fully on display. Clenching his jaw as he felt himself harden and he wondered if you knew what you were doing. What you looked like to him; how you always looked to him. Seemingly out of reach all day, you had flitted around the house - “it’s raining outside; probably should just do some chores” - never stopping for a moment to let him suggest a different kind of activity. 

Standing in the doorway of the living room and watching you fold laundry, his eyes linger on your thighs again, the tight stretch of his shirt over your chest and he decides to finally make a suggestion.

“Hey baby”, he calls to you. “Wanna watch a movie?”

–

Fifteen minutes later, you stretch out in front of him on the couch, your back to his front and he waits for you to get comfortable before draping his heavy arm over your torso, pulling you firmly to his chest. Reaching to drag a soft blanket over the two of you, he makes sure you are covered while you curl into his body heat and you can feel him hard against your ass, but you say nothing. Shifting your hips on the cushion, they rub against his and you hear the hitch in his breathing from behind you.

Looking at the TV, you see the title screen of a movie you’ve seen a million times; some sci fi flick.

“Honey, why did you pick this one”, you ask, tilting your head back towards him. “We just watched this the other day.”

“I think”, he replies, his voice deep in your ear, the whisper of it making you shiver while he presses play on the remote, “you and I both know that I don’t really wanna watch this movie.”

“Then why—“

Sliding his hand up the front of your shirt, he presses his forearm between your breasts, hooking his fingers around your shoulder to pull you tight to his chest while the opening scene starts. Your eyes slide shut on the panning shot of the astronaut in space when you feel Frankie’s hot breath fan over your neck, his lips brushing against your ear.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you all day, baby”, he murmurs, kissing your earlobe, drawing it into his mouth to glide his tongue over it. “You never stopped moving long enough for me to tell you.”

Your hips slowly grinding back into his, you still them. “Should I stop moving now?”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” 

The smile on his face pressing into your shoulder, you reach back and caress his patchy, stubble covered cheek. The man can’t grow a beard to save his life, but you love him all the more for it.

Sliding his hand down from your shoulder, he roughly grabs your breast under the soft fabric of your shirt, gently running the pads of his fingers over the soft underside. “Ever since I woke up and saw you next to me, your tits falling out of your shirt” - you laugh quietly at his phrase, the way he says it - “I’ve been thinking about them all day. I should have crawled back into that bed with you.”

Your hips still moving against his, you turn your head to look at him, pulling his face close to yours. “Why didn’t you, baby?”

“Because you looked so pretty sleeping. So soft”, he replies, kissing you lightly on the lips; once, twice. “I thought maybe you wanted to rest after last night.” He smirks.

Last night was movie night; it had been a late one indeed.

“You can always wake me up if you want me”, you say softly, stroking the sparse, wiry hair over his cheek; the black mixed with grey. Your breath catches when he pulls your hips back into his at the word “want”, his cock pressing hard up against your ass. “You can have me whenever you want. However you want.”

“Is that so, baby”, his voice a rough whisper as his eyes, inky black in the shadowed room, look you over. “However I want?”

You nod and he kisses you, his lips brushing against your mouth as he holds you against his cock, his fingers pressing into you tightly. “I’ll have to remember that”, he mumbles against your lips.

Working his hand under the waistband of your soft shorts, he stills for a moment when he finds you bare underneath; his cock twitching in his pants. “No panties, baby?”, he murmurs into your ear.

“Well, it’s laundry day, so—“, and he cuts your sentence off with a quiet laugh, pressing a kiss to your neck, nuzzling his nose at your hairline.

When his fingers work their way into you, you put your hand back to cup his head, sliding your fingers into his hair, twirling the curls over his ear and you arch your back, pressing your ass against him. Frankie, you moan, Frankie that feels so good, honey and he slides his other arm under your neck, so he can curl it up and hold your head in place; his fingers stroking your hair.

Keeping his gentle pace on your clit, those rough pads of his fingers rubbing the soft circles you love, he makes sure you are nice and wet for him before he slowly slides down your shorts. Pushing his own pants down, he lines himself up with you and when he sinks his cock in, it’s a tight stretch at this angle. You feel the soft press of his belly against your ass when he’s all the way in and you think about how much you love that little belly and the man that comes with it.

“Is this how you would have fucked me this morning?”, you ask, breathless. “Is this how you wanted it, baby?”

Pulling out and pushing back in, he makes sure that he is firmly inside you before sliding his hand back up under your shirt, caressing the velvet skin on the underside of your breast.

“Yes; yes, just like this.” He pants into your ear, his nose sliding against the nape of your neck. “I couldn’t stop thinking about touching you here. How soft you are.” His fingers keep stroking the same spot, over and over. “And how good you smell.” The bridge of his nose skims along your neck as you arch into him. “You always smell so sweet, baby.”

His strokes are languid, smooth and filling and the only sounds in the room are the light pattering of rain against the window, the gentle, low sounds of the TV and you and Frankie; your whimpers and sighs to his soft grunts.

Keeping his face pressed against your shoulder, he fucks into you, his fingers never stopping their stroking against your breast and you clutch his forearm with one hand, the other sliding up over his, still cradling your head.

He’s thought about this all day; the peek of your breast, your thighs in those shorts, all the delicious ways you look just being you and now with your plush ass pressing into his lap, it isn’t long before he has to come. A desperate, ragged breath echos in your ear when he slides his hand back down into your shorts to press against your clit as his thick cock strokes inside you.

“Come on, baby”, he pleads, his breath hot through the thin cotton of your shirt. “I want you to come for me, okay?”

He feels you nod under his hand and it’s a soft cry out of your open mouth when you eventually do, clenching around him, soaking him with a rush of slick. Finally, finally, he comes, just like he wanted to this morning, just like he wanted to when he asked you to watch this movie and you feel the hot panting of his breath gusting over the strands of hair on your neck as he spills into you, holding himself tight inside.

“——STON, HOUSTON WE HAVE—“

“What the fuck”, Frankie asks behind you and it’s a fast scramble for the remote while he tries to keep his cock inside you. Laughing, you quickly dig between the couch cushions and find it, immediately pressing the mute button. Dropping the remote onto the floor, you relax back into him, his arm already pulling you tight as he sags into the couch.

“We must have pushed it between the cushions or something. You okay, baby?”, you laugh, draping your arm over his and squeezing it.

He grumbles his response, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades and you hear a deep inhale as he shuffles his body deeper into the couch to get comfortable. You know he is falling asleep, by the way he softly strokes the hair back from your forehead until his hand slows, the deep, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against your back, his cock snug inside of you like he likes.

Gently scratching his forearm with your nails, you rub over the firm muscles of it while watching the movie for awhile; not really paying attention. It’s so soothing like this, with Frankie’s warm body heat enveloping yours, the dim room, the gentle rain. Turning your head to press a kiss to the arm tucked under your head, you close your eyes and focus on all of those things until you too fall asleep.


	5. Title Menu

Gently placing the DVD in the tray with a soft click, Frankie kneels in front of the TV and waits for the disc to slide in before carefully pressing the “Mute” button on the remote. From behind, you see his curls glow in the light coming from the screen; his bare back black in the shadows and you sit patiently on the edge of the couch, right where he told you to wait.

When he turns towards you, you feel a sharp, hot spike of arousal between your legs, enough to make you almost clamp them together for relief at the way he looks right now: his face dark with want, you watch the light shift and move across his broad shoulders and lean arms as he slowly crawls towards you, completely naked.

Reaching the couch, he kneels in front of you, gently pulling your legs open with his warm hands and you’re already soaked; so wet that he can see it on the inside of your thighs as he spreads you. Having told you to take your clothes off and wait for him just like this, he can’t take his eyes off of you; with your body bright under the glow from the screen, he can see everything and he is achingly hard, his cock resting heavy between his thighs.

“You look so beautiful like this, baby”, he tells you, spreading you wider, his broad hands skating along the inside of your thighs. “I can’t believe this pussy is just for me.”

You flex your hips closer to the edge of the cushion, impatiently seeking out his touch while he takes his time getting to where you want him; where you need him. His hands at the crease of your legs, his thumb delicately skims over your pussy, right over the seam of it and you throb under his touch, the ache almost unbearable.

“Frankie —“, you beg, a shaky exhale to steady yourself as he continues to stroke you. His hooded eyes on you, he shuffles his knees closer to the couch and you can feel the hot heat of his body between your legs, the firm muscles of his sides pressing against your thighs and your mouth is open with want when his face is right in front of yours.

Watching you, he mimics your frown of pleasure, your sharp inhale to his low groan when he presses two fingers into you; deep, down to the knuckle with how slick you are. Cupping his face in your hands, you feel the sharp scrape of his stubble against your palms before he leans in to kiss you; his mouth opening yours as he curls his fingers inside with a full stretch.

He makes sure you are watching him when he drags his fingers out of you and puts them in his mouth, his cheeks hallowing as he sucks on them and you can’t do anything but watch, absolutely mesmerized by the way his lips wrap around them, the way they glisten in the dark.

“You taste so good, baby”, he murmurs. “You wanna taste?”

Dipping his fingers inside you again, he pulls them out and holds them in front of your mouth, sliding the slippery pads of them across your lip before you open up and he feels a hot drip of precome slide down his cock, leaking at the way your hot, wet mouth feels around the digits. Gliding your tongue over the calloused pads of his fingers, he pulls them from your mouth and roughly kisses you, his mouth urgent against yours.

I’m so fucking hard, baby; you always make me so hard he growls into your mouth and when you reach down to stroke him, he thrusts into your tight grip once, twice before pulling your hand away.

He doesn’t want you to stroke him, not yet, not when he is this hard, not when he hasn’t had his fill of you yet.

Lifting your legs and putting them over his shoulders, his mouth is liquid warmth when it slides over your pussy and you cry out Frankie, Frankie; fuck when he eats you. Closing your eyes, you focus on the filthy sounds he is making; the deep, contented hums vibrating out of his throat and straight into your core and you clench around his tongue as it slides into you as deep as he can get it.

Moving back up to your clit, his lips slide around it and then over it before he sucks it into his mouth, gliding his tongue rapidly over it until he feels your thighs tensing under his hands, your hands tugging on his soft hair to pull him closer and he doesn’t stop until you come in his mouth; the hot rush of it on his tongue, sliding down his throat.

“I wanted to make you come with my mouth all day, baby” he tells you, his lips dragging against your thigh and you whimper at the words, his husky voice alone building your heat back up again. “But now”, he says, gently lifting your hand off of the couch and placing it over your damp folds, “Now I want you to make yourself come while you watch me.”

Your dazed eyes following his movements, he sits back on his heels and grasps his cock in his grip, his forearm flexing as he strokes it; once, twice.

“Do you like watching me, baby? Do you like—“, a strained groan flexes out of his throat as he tips his head back and talks to the ceiling. “Do you like watching me fuck myself?”

For a moment you are struck dumb, literally frozen with arousal as you watch him: the way he works himself with his hand, the tension in his neck and chest, the way his throat works his moans out and you do nothing but watch.

“Come on, baby”, his voice drawing you out of your stupor. “I wanna watch you make yourself come. Please, baby.”

The unbearable ache back again, you quickly slide your fingers into your pussy with a moan and he reaches out to grab your ankle, lifting your leg up until your heel is resting on the edge of the couch cushion. Spread wide for him, he resumes stroking himself as he watches your hand, your fingers disappearing with a wet slide into your pussy and his cock swells in his hand when you arch into your own touch, moaning his name.

“Keep your eyes on me”, he pleads, making sure you obey. “I wanna see you when you come; I wanna see your pretty face, baby.”

The two of you working yourselves faster, he reaches out to glide his thumb over your clit, your soaked hand under his and it’s a hoarse cry from you when he rubs, rubs, rubs it while you add another finger.

“Frankie, I’m gonna come”, you moan and he already knows it, because he knows exactly what you look like when you do and he thinks about how much he loves that face; that beautiful face of yours when it pleads for him like this.

Pressing his thumb on your clit and holding it, he keeps his eyes on your face when you come together, a deep groan when his come spills out onto his hand and his stomach as the cushion beneath you darkens with your slick, your pussy clenching around your fingers.

Working out every last drop, he waits until you pull your hand from yourself before leaning forward to rest on you. His body back between your knees, he circles his arms around your hips and rests his face against you, pressing kisses to any skin he can reach. Softly brushing his hair back from his brow, you twirl the ends of his curls around your finger and watch him; his mouth warm and delicate on your skin before he stands to go get a warm washcloth.

Cleaning the both of you off, he hands you one of his t shirts to put on, along with your soft shorts you sleep in and the two of you slip your clothes on before stretching out on the couch together. On his back, you lay between his legs, face resting on his solid, warm chest as his heavy arm drapes over you, holding you close.

Asking if you are ready to start the movie, you look up him from his chest and pull yourself up to press your lips against his; a soft press of your mouths together before pulling back. Taking the time to look at each other, you watch his soft eyes take in your face and a sleepy smile spreads over your features when you linger on his own sweet smile, his sparse beard, the deep crinkles around his eyes.

Resting your head back down, his heart thrumming under your ear, you take in his scent as the soft cotton of his shirt slides against your cheek. With his hand softly stroking the hair back from your temple, you tell him to start the movie.


	6. Post Credits Scene

He waited the whole movie for this, this one post credit scene that everyone said was so good and right when the last words of the credits rolled across the screen, you hit pause on the remote. 

Looking at you in confusion, he is slow on the uptake when you climb onto him, straddling his lap. Reaching for the remote, he tries to press play when you swat it out of his hand and his face is stern when he looks up at you. 

“What are you doing?”, he asks, looking at the remote, now at the far end of the couch. “I just wanna watch this one thing, baby and then we can–”

His voice trails off and stops when you slowly open the knot of your robe, letting the two ends fall to the side as the fabric slides away from your body. Thinking that you had taken a shower before the movie and wanted to sit around in your robe, he had no idea you had been sitting next to him all night wearing this. 

Shrugging out of the fabric, you let it fall behind you on the floor and you place your hands on Frankie’s chest, the soft cotton of his shirt warm under your touch. Sliding your hands up around his neck, you lean in to give him a kiss; his face still frozen in surprise. 

Leaning back, you place your hands on his knees and give your hips an experimental roll while he takes in the sight; the lace bra that he can see right through, the delicate panties with ties on the sides. 

Rolling your hips again over his lap, he watches the motion; slowly dragging his eyes up over your soft belly, your chest and finally your face.

“How do I look?”, you ask, softly biting your lip.

He is speechless; he’s never seen anything so beautiful. 

He pulls you close to him and rests his forehead against your chest, the soft press of your breasts against his stubble covered cheeks and his hands are softly stroking the lace, his finger tips dipping inside as he kisses the exposed swell. You reach behind yourself to undo your bra and sensing the motion, he helps you slide the straps of it over your shoulders and roughly pulls it off of you, tossing it on the floor.

Cupping the weight of them in his hands, he softly strokes them, brushing his thumbs over your nipples until they harden under his touch.

“You didn’t answer me, Frankie. Do you like it?”

His eyes are an inky black, clouded with lust when he looks up at you. “You know I do.”

He flexes his hips up against you, pressing his stiff cock up against you as proof.

“Do you like it better than that scene you wanted to watch?”

He smirks, your breasts still in his rough palms. “Well, to be fair, I haven’t seen—“

Shut up, you murmur with a smile, leaning in to kiss him. He meets your mouth with his, his lips eager against yours when he moves his hands back to your hips and presses you down against him. He swallows the soft whine that comes out of your mouth, his tongue swirling against yours and he holds you down as you drag your hips over him.

His fingers skimming along the waistband of your panties, he dips them just inside and gently pulls on the fabric; pulling it far enough away to let it go with a snap. You smile into his mouth, your hands reaching into his hair and pulling him closer to you and he meets your urgency with a soft sound into your mouth, reaching back to palm your ass in a harsh grip, pulling at the skin before smoothing it with his hands.

You pull back, making sure he is watching when you gently pull the ties on the sides of your panties and when the knots loosen, he pulls them slowly out from under you, the slippery fabric sliding between your legs. Balling them in his fist, he gently presses them to his face and inhales before tossing those too onto the floor.

A quiet clink of his belt buckle as you open his pants and pull him out, heavy in your hand, your fist pumping him a few times before rising up on your knees and lining him up with your entrance. Pressing the fat head of his cock into you, you roll your hips down over him as he slides in all the way down to the base and he leans back against the couch, watching you ride him.

“You had this planned, baby”, he states, his hands roaming back up to your breasts, where you cover them with your own. “How long have you thought about doing this? About sitting on my lap and fucking yourself on my cock?”

He watches you tip your face up to the ceiling with a whine, the flex of your body as it works over him and he pulls you close just to feel the soft press of your body against his. Draped over his chest like this, he slides the tip of his nose along the shell of your ear and you can feel the vibration of his pleased hum. 

“Do I feel good, baby?”, you ask, breathless. “Tell me. Tell me how good my pussy feels.”

It feels so good baby, you’re so wet, so tight, all just for me he groans and you pick up the pace, bracing yourself hands on his shoulders. Twisting his shirt in your fist, you cry out when he adds his fingers; parting you and seeking out your clit to glide circles over it.

You struggle to stay in control, you really wanted to give this to him, but he is stretching you so good, inside of you so deep that you you can’t help but let him take over.

“You gonna come on me, baby?”, he asks in a velvet, rich tone; his deep brown eyes watching you. “Is my cock gonna make you come?”

A sharp exhale through your nose at his words, you drag your hips faster, pushing him in deeper and he steadies your hips with his hands to slow you down so he can savor it. Savor you. 

“You get so wet; I wanna feel it dripping onto me.”

His firm grip grinding you onto his cock, he is so deep inside, the thickness of him filling you so completely that you lean forward and rest your forehead against his.

“You fill me so good, Frankie”, you coo. “You always fuck me just right; just like it want it.” Dragging your hips back and forward, back and forward, you keep talking, your words broken by soft pants. “You’re such a good boy, Frankie. Always filling my pussy up, with your thick cock.” A kiss to his lips. “With your come.”

Leaning back, you rest your hands on his knees and watch his face; his eyes closed as a shiver rolls through his body while listening to your praise. Praise is what he likes best; what makes his eyes turn that liquid brown black, what makes his chest full and his cock impossibly hard. You know this and you keep going.

“I want you to make me come, Frankie”, you moan, your back arched to keep working him with your hips. “I want you to be a good boy and make me come and then I want you to fill my pussy up, okay? Please, baby?”

Not needing to add the word “please”, but knowing he likes it when you say it, he pulls you close to him again, mouthing at your breast as he places a hand on your lower back to hold you steady while he fucks up into you. Reaching up to hold onto your shoulder from behind, his arm is a strong brace against your back as your knees rub against the rough fabric of the cushions; his hips flexing up as yours come down on him.

Resting his head against your chest, you feel his mouth hot against your skin as he pulls you down onto his cock, over and over, eventually looking up at you when his fingers find your clit again.

“Come on, baby”, he pleads. “Come on my cock, so I can fill you up.” His brow furrows, his mouth slack with pleasure. “Your pussy feels too good; I’m — I’m gonna come, baby. But you gotta come first so I can fill you up; fuck my come into you.”

Grinding down on his cock, his fingers work you fast until he feels you flutter around him with a whimper. Grabbing his face with your hands, you kiss him hard when you come, his mouth swallowing your deep moans as he feels a rush of your come coat him, your pussy squeezing him so tight. He keeps your mouths pressed together when he joins you; the hot, milky spurt of it flooding you, leaking out where you are joined.

Breathing heavily into each other’s mouths, he braces you while you sag into him, resting your forearms on his shoulders and stroking the longer strands of hair over the nape of his neck.

Keeping his cock tight inside, you cry out and hold on when he shifts under you, leaning with a stretch to grab the remote. Pulling you close, he looks at the screen over your shoulder and presses play, starting the movie again; his broad hand warm on your lower back .

The post credit scene playing behind you, you watch his intent face crinkle in a smile when it ends. Running your thumb over his lips, he kisses the pad of it when you ask him if the scene was everything he hoped it would be.

“Of course, baby”, his eyes taking in your face. Knowing you aren’t really asking about the scene, he continues his answer. “It always is.”


	7. Home Projector

“Just wait until you see the surprise I have for you, baby”, you say, greeting Frankie, draping your arms over his shoulders to pull him in for a kiss. His hands circle your waist, pressing you to him with a hum as he deepens it briefly before pulling back. Having just walked in the door, he has been looking forward to movie night tonight; it’s been a long day. His palms slide down to your ass, cupping the cheeks in his hands and he kneads the flesh there; your skirt pulling up with the motion. Your hands on the side of his neck, your thumbs stroking over the wiry strands of his beard, you press a kiss to his nose.

“I found something today at a garage sale; something I’ve been wanting for a long time.” You tip your head to the side as he skates his nose up the length of your neck, gently running the tip of his tongue over the dip just under your ear. “I’ve got it all set up. As soon as it’s dark, I’ll show you.”

“Is that so”, he murmurs, moving his mouth down to your throat for a moment; a gentle brush of his lips against the hollow of it. He is listening, but only just; wanting to come right in and shower, he is now distracted by the way your body feels under the soft cotton of your dress. 

You know his routine after work, what he likes to do, so you gently untangle yourself from his grasp as he frowns, his body shifting closer to chase your warmth. “Go take a shower, baby”, you say, turning from him and walking towards the kitchen. His eyes on are your ass, watching your hips sway under the fabric and it’s only when you disappear from his sight that he realizes he has no idea what you were talking about. 

–

Impressed, Frankie lets out a low whistle as he surveys the backyard: a giant, soft blanket on the ground, several pillows scattered at the top, several more throws to the side. At the bottom, a projector, prompted up on an end table you brought out; the lens pointing at the side of the house, where you’ve hung up a giant, white sheet. 

Pulling him towards the blanket, you drop down into the middle of the soft nest as he follows you and you ask if he likes it. 

“Hell yes, baby”, he answers, his eyes roaming over the snacks, immediately reaching for his favorite. “This is so amazing.”

You smile under his praise, lying back on the blanket and shifting to get comfortable. The sun having just set, the night air is warm against your skin, the gentle breeze rippling the sheet on the house and you briefly hope the neighbors won’t mind the glow of the movie once you start it. The fence surrounding your property should be enough to hide it from their view, but you never know. 

Turning your attention to Frankie to ask if he is ready, you smile at the sight of his eager face; his jaw shifting as he chews the sticky candy, having already opened the box of Milk Duds. 

“You ready, baby?”, you ask.

“I’m ready”, he replies with a smile, stretching out along the side of you. Holding his arm out as an invitation, you worm your way into the crook of it; your face pressed into his shoulder. The clean smell of his shower, the soft scent of laundry softener, the unique smell of Frankie that is best when you inhale just under his jawline; you take in all these things and press play on the remote. 

–

The movie having long ended, the two of you are whisper fighting in the dark, the playful disagreement about the plot of the movie punctuated by quiet laughter as the argument becomes more absurd. 

“I think”, you argue, your fingers intertwining with his, "that you should just take my word for it. I should know; I obviously have a master’s degree in…….science. Science stuff.”

His face so close to yours on the pillow, he is unimpressed with your answer and though he is smiling, his voice is flat when he responds. “Science stuff. That’s your degree.”

You nod, hiding behind your joined hands as you press a kiss to his knuckles. 

“Wow”, he teases, pulling your body closer to his, his other hand curling over your hip. Sliding his hand down over the side of your thigh, he grips the back of your knee and pulls it up over his side, hitching it over his hip while rolling you onto your back. “I never knew I was with someone who held such a prestigious degree.” His cheeks swell with his smile, the crinkles around his eyes deepening as he looks down at you. “Brains and beauty? That’s hot.” He winks.

–

Even later still, the night around you is pitch black, the stars shining bright overhead. You would be admiring them right now, if it weren’t for your eyes actually being closed; Frankie’s mouth warm and wet along the inside of your thighs. The warm night air dancing over your exposed skin, he has already made you come twice; your skirt hiked up over your hips, your panties discarded somewhere in the soft nest of bedding. 

Pressing a kiss to your hip, then the other one, then your belly, he drags his mouth up along the buttery soft skin before resting his heavy body between your legs, his hips and hard cock grinding into you. His fingers reach down to dip inside of you and you pull back from his hand, a whimper escaping at how sensitive you are. 

“Come on, baby”, he whispers in the dark, his soft hair gliding along your cheek as he kisses your neck. You smell your arousal on his skin when mouths at your jawline, an open mouthed taste of your skin. “You got another one for me?”

Frankie; Frankie I can’t you softly moan and he withdraws his fingers from you, resting them damp against your hip. Kissing you, he moves his lips against yours when he tells you that he knows you can take it, that you’ve been such a good girl for him already, he just wants to make you feel good again and you can’t even answer, because he never stops kissing you; his tongue swirling deep into your mouth, making you taste yourself. 

Both hands on his chest, you push him away and onto his back, straddling his hips. You chase his mouth with your own, his hands sliding up through your hair, pushing it back away from your face and he groans heavily into your mouth when you settle your hand over his cock; the stiff length of it pressed into his thigh under his jeans. His breath mingling with yours, his head falls back against the pillow with a soft grunt when you unbutton his pants and pull him out. His hips flexing up into your tight fist, you stroke him while keeping your eyes on his face. 

“Do you like this, baby?”, you coo, your warm breath fanning over his throat. “Do you like the way my hand feels? Or do you want me to use something else?”

Pressing two thick fingers into your mouth, he groans when you suck on them; your wet tongue gliding over the digits. “I want you to use this, baby”, he begs. Shoving them further into your mouth, you moan around them and squeeze him tighter.

He watches when you shift down his body, resting your bare ass on his shins and he almost comes at the sight of you leaning over, gathering your saliva in your mouth and letting it drip down onto his cock. Your strokes much more fluid with the extra slick, he closes his eyes with a frown and swells under your hand. His hands fisting the blanket underneath him, you smile at how undone this man is, how much you just want to make him feel good, how much this good man deserves it and you slide your lips over the tip of his cock, lightly sucking on the head of it. 

“Fuck, baby”, he grits out, trying to push deeper, but the weight of your body on his legs prevents him from moving. “I–I need – fuck.”

You know what he needs, know just how he likes it and you grip the base of him tightly, your thumb stroking the velvet underside of his cock while you sink your mouth down on him. Down, past your thumb, down to the base; the tip of him against the back of your throat. Holding him there for a moment, saliva floods your mouth and you hear a strangled sob from above when you press the flat of your tongue against the smooth, rigid skin. Dragging it back up, you hollow your cheeks as you suck, never letting the pressure of your tongue abate and you are rewarded with a salty spurt of precome into your mouth. 

You take your time with him, just like he does with you, always does with you and he tries to hold out as long as he can, but your mouth just feels too good. 

Pulling up off of him, you stroke him quickly, your cheek resting against his hip and watch his cock under your hand; the thickness of it, the way the skin glistens in the dark and you clench around nothing; shifting your hips to press his shin into your pussy. Gently grinding on it, you put his cock back into your mouth and you can tell he is close to coming, because he starts spewing filth. 

Your mouth always feels so fucking good, but I bet your pussy feels better, baby; I know you’re wet right now, I can feel it through my jeans; fuck, baby, are you gonna come just from sucking my cock and when you swiftly run your hand up along the inside of his thigh, the soft hair on his leg gliding under your palm and cup his balls in your hand, squeezing them just enough, he comes. His hand fisting your hair, he holds you down on him (though he wouldn’t have to, you’d do this for him over and over, any time he asked) and spurts into your mouth; thick and salty, flooding over your tongue, the hot rush of it sliding down your throat. 

Sweeping your tongue over the base of him, gently gliding it up, you keep sucking him as he softens in your mouth and jerks his hips back; too sensitive for you to continue. 

“Come here, baby”, he pants, reaching his arms out for you. Crawling back up his body, he hisses when you place your wet center over his cock, but he doesn’t pull back; he just holds you down on top of it until he gets used to the warm press of it. Your cheek resting on his firm chest, his heart is hammering under his soft shirt and he gently strokes the hair back from your temple, kissing the crown of your head with a huff. 

“Do you think”, he eventually asks, his panting slowing down, “Do you think the neighbors heard us?” 

Your head pops up and he is laughing at your shocked expression; you had completely forgotten about them hours ago. Your face softening at how happy he is, you push his hair back over his brow, your fingers gliding through the curls over his ear when you lean down and whisper to him. 

“Well”, you answer, “as a woman of science, I can tell you with confidence that sound doesn’t carry that –”

Your body shakes on top of his as he laughs, squeezing you tight against his chest. Rolling you onto your back, he grinds his hips against yours; his cock a slippery slide against your open folds. Still laughing, he kisses your cheek, your nose, your chin, before pressing his lips against yours and slipping his tongue into your mouth, he deepens the kiss with a contended hum. His cock slowly hardening against you, the hot, wet press of your pussy sliding along the underside of it, it’s a soft sound into your mouth when he drops his weight onto you; pushing you into the blanket. 

“Let me show you, baby”, his lips moving against yours. “Let me show you how hot I think brains and beauty are.”


	8. Midnight Showing

It’s late, the middle of the night and you should be asleep; should be worn out from earlier, but you aren’t and so you lay awake. The movie ended hours ago; Frankie not being able to make it fully through it without turning to you. The last 30 minutes or so playing out on the screen as he worked you with his hands, his tongue, his cock; the two of you eventually fell asleep, your naked bodies pressed together under a throw on the couch. 

Facing each other, your legs are entwined with his, his thigh pressed against your center, the skin between you damp and sticky with old arousal; his soft cock pressed into your hip and you shift slightly on the couch, watching his face. He doesn’t wake; you feel the steady rise and fall of his chest under your palm.

You lightly trace his jawline as he sleeps, just delicately enough as to not disturb him while you admire the slivers of wiry grey mixed with black, the strands tough under your touch; the soft swell of his cheek, his mouth relaxed in slumber. Running the pad of your finger down the bridge of his nose, he wrinkles it in his sleep, but doesn’t stir. 

Thinking about what he did to you earlier on this couch; the filling strokes of his cock, the sharp jolt of his hips into yours, his thick, calloused fingers gripping your hips, your neck, your hair, you feel a pool of arousal (or maybe it’s his come from earlier?) leak from between your legs onto his thigh. You should be tired from earlier, worn out by how he loved you, but you only find yourself getting aroused as you look at him in the dark; his warm, solid body pressed against yours. 

The slow spreading ache warming through your hips, you reach down and run your hand softly over his cock. The velvet skin soft and yielding under your touch, you circle it with your fingers, squeezing it lightly as you gently stroke him. Pressing your fingers together, you glide them over the head in a circular motion, smiling when you feel him twitch under your hand, the thick length slowly hardening under your touch. 

A soft, deep sigh escaping from his lips, his hips slowly chase your hand when his body restlessly shifts on the couch, rolling onto his back. A moment passes and you think he is still asleep until he reaches down to gently grasp your wrist, his hand heavy over yours.

“What are you doing, baby?”, he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. 

“I couldn’t sleep”, you softly reply, resuming your stroking as his hand stays on you. His eyes still closed, his hips flex off of the couch with a soft hum and his hand moves down to cover yours, squeezing it to make your grip tighter under his as he strokes with you; your cheek resting on his shoulder when you turn to press a kiss into the skin there. 

The room is silent save for Frankie’s soft pants, his occasional barely there groan over the soft rustle of the blanket and you stop stroking him to slowly, slowly, climb on top of him. 

His hands are warm and firm on your hips, your mouth wide open with a hitched inhale as you sink down on him, his length filling you. The pressure of it, the deep stretch of it and you still for a moment, your hips tight against his when he reaches out for you. 

“Come down here, baby”, he murmurs, pulling you down against him. Your arms curl over the top of his head and you slide your fingers through his soft curls; his arms a heavy, warm brace over your back as he tightens his hold. “I want to feel you against me like this.” 

You press your face into the damp crook of his neck and inhale his scent: a heady smell, something unique to him and you rock your hips; once, twice. The trail of hair low on his belly is pressed tight against you, the tuft of it over his cock gliding against your clit as you gently ride him and you let out a shaky exhale, tightening your grip on his hair. 

You move together in the slowest, sleepiest way: the warm press of his soft mouth on yours when he catches your lips, his broad hands pressing down on your back to make sure you stay close to him, your hips moving so, so slow in their roll together. The angle of his cock not as deep as he wants, he plants his feet on the couch, his knees bent as he pushes up into you and you quietly plead Frankie, Frankie when he fills you completely; the top of his thighs pressing into your ass. 

Finding your mouth again, his lips move against yours when he tells you how good you feel, how soft you are against him, how he loves when you are on top like this and he keeps stroking into you as your hips rock faster, needing something more. 

Keeping his cock inside you, he holds you tight when he turns onto his side; your body between him and the back of the couch. It’s a tight fit and the change in position is overwhelming: hitching your knee up over his hip, he pulls on it when he thrusts into you and you can’t see anything beyond him; the warm solid wall of his body pressing you into the soft cushions. You are surrounded by him, surrounded by the heat of his body, the smell of him everywhere around you, the thick stretch of his cock inside you and you feel tears prickling at the intensity of it all. 

Frankie, your soft moan against his deeper one, oh God, I want it just like that Frankie and his strokes are heavier now, his hips holding his cock tight inside for a second before sliding out and repeating the motion. 

“Christ, baby, yes”, he pants, his mouth hovering over yours, your hot breath mingling together. “Is this what you wanted when you woke me up? To be fucked like this?” Another deep stroke; his fingers digging into your leg. “Did you -- fuck -- did you think about how good it would feel, my cock fucking you deep inside?”

“Yes, Frankie; yes I thought about it, I wanted it”, you cry out and when you tip your head back into the cushion behind you, his mouth is open and wet against your skin, his lips dragging against your throat as he fucks into you. 

“I think about it too when I can’t sleep”, he confesses. “I think about how I wanna wake you up just to fuck you, wake you up so I can taste your pussy; fuck it with my fingers and with my cock, just like you like it.”

A whine crawls out of your throat under his lips and his thrusts are harsh now, his muscles tight with tension. His voice is a quiet strain against your skin. “You want it just like this, don’t you?”

Yes yes yes, you cry, just like this, oh god and you come; the tight coil of heat in your belly breaking and flowing through your hips and down; down where you are joined and Frankie feels the hot, slick rush of it as you cling to him. One more stroke, then another, and he follows you with a sharp intake of breath; your bodies damp with sweat under the blanket as he spills inside you. 

The two of you panting, clutching each other tight, you feel the soft jerks of his belly against yours as the last drops of his come fill you, his hips flush against yours to keep it tight inside and he cups the back of your head, pulling you in for a kiss. 

His kiss is soft, lingering, a slip of his tongue against yours as his body relaxes under your limbs. He is already slipping back into sleep, his eyes sliding shut as he whispers to you.

“Stay right here, okay”, he says, his words gradually getting softer. “I want to hold you like this, while we sleep.” He is quiet for a moment and then asleep. 

You smile, both at his sweet, relaxed face and his words. You couldn’t move if you wanted to; his heavy, warm body pressing you into the couch, his long arms surrounding you, his cock still inside of you. You don’t want to move though, you want to stay right here and when you finally close your eyes, you sleep soundly.


	9. Chick Flick

“Wasn’t it so romantic, baby?”, you sigh, your arm linked with Frankie’s as you exit the theater. “I mean, the way he absolutely needed her, the way he was crazy about her, the way he would have done anything she asked.”

He listens as you talk, a smile tugging at his lips. He feels much the same about you; especially in moments like this, when you’re lost in enthusiastic rambles about your favorite things.

“Yea, baby”, he replies, squeezing your arm against his body. “You picked a good one this time for sure.”

The two of you stroll out into the lobby, past the empty, dark concessions booth with the sole employee; reading, as they make sure everyone leaves before they lock up.

It’s a muted quiet as you walk towards the exit; your soft footsteps on the plush carpet, quiet discussions around you from the trickle of a few other couples who were in the movie with you.

“Sorry I cried so much at the end”, you apologize, a quiet huff of a shy laugh. “Thanks for giving me your extra napkins.”

“Anytime, baby”, he says softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

A low whooshing sound, steadily getting louder as you approach the doors of the theater, the both of you look up at the same time and see that is pouring outside; heavy, soaking sheets of rain and you make a face, thinking about the dress you’re wearing.

“Just wait here, okay?”, he tells you, peering out to judge how far away his truck is, even though he can’t see anything through the downpour. “I’ll pull up so you don’t get soaked.”

The gesture a romantic one, you smile at how sweet it is, at how earnest and open his face is, not even a second thought that he would do this for you.

“Let’s just go together”, you reply, knowing full well you’re going to get drenched. You don’t want him to go all alone to the back of the lot; miserable in his task as he jogs to the far corner. Even if you are going to end up soaked and freezing, you want to go through it together. 

“Baby, your dress”, he protests. He shakes his head. “No; I’ll just go get it.”

“Listen. A little rain” - your face glancing out the plate glass windows; it’s way more than a little rain - “isn’t gonna kill me. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

He smiles, unable to resist teasing you. “A big girl, huh? The same big girl that just cried her eyes out in that movie?”

“Frankie Morales”, you scold, your hands busy zipping up your purse, gently securing your phone in one of the pouches before gripping the steel bar of the door. “I can be a big girl and also have emotions.”

He hums in agreement and opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off when you abruptly open the door.

“Race you there!”, you shout over the deafening rain and he yells out to you as you run, but it gets lost in the wind. You pump your legs as fast as they can go, your skirt already plastered to your thighs, the fat drops of rain pouring over your skin. You race through the first section of spots, then the second and when you quickly glance over your shoulder, he’s a lot closer than you think. Shrieking with laughter, you pick up your pace, trying to dodge the deeper puddles.

“Get back here, baby!”, he shouts, his voice just beyond your shoulder and you ignore him, his truck now just visible in the dark corner of the lot.

You can hear his rapid footsteps through the rain, slamming down on the pavement of the lot and when you turn around again to see where he is, you scream a laugh because he’s right there, a giant grin on his face. “You better run, girl or I’m gonna beat you.”

You laugh as you run faster, just barely making it to his truck before he does. Your hands slamming into the side of it, you turn towards him and wait for him to open the door. Your chests heaving, adrenaline pumping, joy coursing through your veins, he doesn’t reach for his keys; instead caging you against the side of the trunk. His hands on your waist, he quickly walks you backwards until your back is against the door and he pauses for a moment, so close to your face before leaning in to kiss you.

The two of you are soaked, your clothing wet and clinging to your bodies, the brim of his hat pouring streams of rain and you reach up, pulling it off of his head. Holding it in your hand, you wrap your arms around his neck and press yourself tighter to him while he kisses you; his mouth devouring yours, his tongue swirling in your mouth, his lips urgent and plush. His hips grind into yours with need, his hand palming your breast through your soaked dress and he squeezes it, groaning when he feels your nipple through the fabric.

You think about the movie you just watched, the two leads confessing their love in the rain before they too kissed and this is not quite as romantic, more heated than that, but it’s a different kind of romance with how your body is on fire for this man and his touches; always burning for him.

Eventually he pulls away, licking you and the rain off of his lips, his heaving chest against yours and you smile at him; his dark curls plastered against his forehead, trickles of water running down his cheeks.

“I think we should probably get in the truck”, you say, not moving, watching the rain pour all around you. 

His hand is still on your breast, his fingers slowly edging along the neckline to pull the fabric to the side. “Oh, I’m gonna get you in this truck alright.” He winks.

—

The rain not letting up, Frankie can’t even see through the windshield when he starts the car and he lets it run, blasting the heaters while he turns to you. His eyes take in the sight of your thin dress; the cotton of it almost completely transparent, the outline of your bra and panties dark through the fabric and he is on you like a flash, pulling you across the bench seat and onto his lap.

“I haven’t done this since I was a fucking teenager, but—“

His mouth is on yours as he wraps his hands around your hips, guiding you with a drag over his firm thigh.

Your lips smiling against his at this whole situation: the two of you, your clothes heavy and wet with rain, the interior of the cab slowly filling with a humid heat mixed with your scent as you kiss and kiss and kiss, the breath being stolen out of your lungs and into this mouth like he is breathing you in; your hands everywhere all at once and neither one of you being able to stop.

Quiet laugher at how fogged up the windows are getting, at how your head is almost touching the ceiling of the truck, at how cramped it is for the both of you, but when he reaches down to drag your skirt higher to watch the way your pussy grinds against his leg, he isn’t laughing anymore.

Tipping his head back to look up at you, you feel a tightness in your chest at the way he looks; his deep brown eyes pleading with you, his mouth open in want, the way his hair frames his face in lose curls already drying and when you lean down, his mouth is frantic against yours. His thick fingers curled tight around your hips when he mumbles against your lips, telling you to keep going, telling you he wants to see you come; right here, right now, in this truck, on his leg and you brace your hand against the top of the cab and clutch his soft, wet shirt in your fist when you feel the first wave of heat flow through your body.

“Fuck, baby”, he grits out, flexing his thigh under you as you lean forward to get better pressure against your clit and your breasts are level with his mouth when he roughly palms one through the fabric before putting his mouth on it; the hot press of it leeching through the wet cotton as he sucks on your nipple.

You roll and roll your hips, but you can’t quite get what you need and you whine into his neck, your lips dragging over his skin and he quickly shifts your body until you are spread out on the bench seat under him. Immediately wrapping your legs around his waist, he drops his body weight onto you and grinds his hips into yours; just like teenagers in your desperation.

The seam of his jeans and his thick cock underneath rub against you just right and you flex your hips up to his, meeting his every thrust and his rich, deep voice fills the small space.

“Come on, baby; I want you to come for me, okay?”, he pleads, his mouth hot in your ear and you slide your hands up under his T-shirt to grip his damp lower back; pressing him tight to your body.

“I need you, Frankie”, you moan, trying to tell him that you need his cock or his fingers or his mouth; something more than just this, but he doesn’t give it to you; he wants you to come just like this.

“I’m right here”, he soothes, his voice a hot pant against your neck. “I can’t give you my cock, baby; not here. But I know you can do it. Be a good girl and come for me like this.”

His hand reaches down to help the roll of your hips, pressing you tight to him while also guiding them against his and when he looks down at you, your eyes pleading for him to help you, your mouth open in pleasure and he increases his pace, watching as you come undone.

“That’s it, baby, just like that”, he says, putting all of his weight against your pussy; the pressure of it tipping you over the edge. You cry out his name, your voice husky with use, your head tipping back into the cushion of the seat and he talks you through it when your hands are a vice grip on his shirt, your thighs squeezing him tight.

“Fuck; you’re such a good girl coming for me like this. I can feel you through my pants; you’re gonna make me come, baby.” The sound you make, the way you look, the hot heat of your pussy through his jeans; it all hits him at the same time and it’s a ragged groan from his outstretched throat when he comes in his pants, the warm, sticky mess soaking through the denim.

Sagging into you, he laughs through heavy breathing; his forehead resting against yours. “Jesus Christ, baby”, he chuckles, watching you smile underneath him. “Look what you do to me.”

“What we do to each other”, you correct him, cupping his face in your hands. Kissing him, you both savor the warm, wet glide of each other’s mouths, his heavy body resting on top of yours and a content hum from him quickly turns into a sharp intake of breath when you slide your hands under the sides of his shirt.

“Jesus baby, your hands are freezing”, he yelps and he tries to pull away from you, but you laugh and burrow them further up under his shirt, locking your heels together over his back.

It’s a quick tussle, your bodies locked together while he tries to get away, your lighter laugh against his deeper one when you struggle on the bench seat. 

Overpowering you, he grabs your wrists in his hands and presses them into the seat above your head, his hands warm against your cold skin. 

“You gonna take me home and warm me up, Frankie?”, you coo from underneath him, tightening your legs around his waist. His eyes are fixed on the top of your dress, the exposed flesh above your bra and he presses a kiss to it, his hair sliding down over his brow and tickling your skin. 

“Always.”


	10. Opening Day

When the gentle chime of the alarm rings in the dark room, Frankie quickly reaches for his phone to silence it, setting it back down on the bedside table. 

Turning over to face you, he smiles when he sees how tangled you've become in the night; your pillow cast almost to the side, the blanket down around your waist, your sleep shirt twisted high on your torso. Scooting closer to you, he tugs the blanket back up before resting his hand on your ribs, slowly sliding it around your side as he presses himself closer to you and you respond to the warmth of him in your sleep, shifting towards him with a sigh. 

It's early; too early for how late you were up last night: a double feature of movies because you couldn't decide what you were in the mood for. He knows he should let you sleep, but he can't stop himself from seeking you out, especially with how warm your skin feels against his, how the bottom of your breast is just barely visible. 

Leaning down, he nudges the hem of your shirt up with his nose, the tip of it gliding over your nipple before he takes it into his mouth and even though you wake up, you don't open your eyes just yet. His warm, wet mouth on your skin, the flat of his tongue stroking the peak of your breast until it hardens in his mouth, he pulls away to tug your shirt up and off, tossing it onto the floor. 

"Good morning", you murmur, right before his mouth finds yours. He is so delicate with his kisses and his touches, the pads of his fingers softly stroking the underside of your breast, his mouth gently easing yours open. 

Slanting his mouth over yours, he deepens the kiss with an inhale as he leans over your body, reaching down to slip your sleep shorts off and you help him, kicking them off into the nest of the bed. Easing himself in between your legs, he buries his face in the warm crook of your neck and you feel a slight shudder run through his body as he takes in your warmth, settling his weight on top of you, your bodies flush together. He moves over you, his mouth at the hollow of your throat when you tip your head up to give him room and the sheets rustle as his hands never stop in their quest to feel every inch of your skin that he can reach. 

"You're so soft, baby", he whispers and he means it: everything about you is so soft; the comforter you picked out for the bed, the shirt you sleep in, your skin, your heart, the sounds he is drawing out of you right now. Slow breathy moans, a choked hitch when he guides himself into you. "I'm sorry for waking you up, but -"

Don't be sorry; never be sorry you tell him, winding your legs around his hips. Cupping his face in your hands, you pull him in for a kiss and this one is more heated than the others as his mouth presses into yours, his tongue swirling as he breathes you in. His strokes inside of you are fluid and strong and you rest your hands on his lower back, feeling the flexing of his muscles under your hand as he pushes into you. 

Bracing himself on the mattress, he puts more weight behind the thrusts, wanting to get as deep inside of you as possible. He is overwhelmed by how surrounded in you he is: encased in your liquid warmth, your legs wrapped around him, the blanket up over his back, your warm body pressed against his. He thinks about all the terrible places he's had to camp out, all the cold, desolate, dreary conditions and this; this feels like heaven in comparison; like he died in those places and has been reborn right here, in this bed with you. 

Dropping down to his forearms, he rests his head against your shoulder and you slide your fingers up through his hair, the soft curls gliding under your hands. Squeezing him tighter with your legs, you arch your hips off the bed to meet his thrusts and are rewarded with a low groan that vibrates against your chest as he increases his pace. 

"You feel so good, Frankie", you moan, your head pressing back into the pillow. "You always", a sharp inhale when he thrusts in hard at your words, "feel so good inside me."

"Tell me", he begs, his hips working faster against yours. "Tell me how good I feel."

You don't have the words to describe it; the way he makes you feel inside and out, not only in this bed but always, but you try because you want him to hear what he does to you. 

"You - fuck - you fill me so good, baby", you tell him, your hands guiding his face above yours, so you can look him in the eyes. "Only you know how to make me feel like this; make me come like this."

"Only me?", he asks, his brown eyes pleading with you. 

"Only you, baby; only you know how", you answer, meaning every word. "No one else has ever fucked me like this, has ever made me feel this good and I --", your confession trails off into a loud cry when he changes from strokes into a deep grind into you, his cock filling you completely, his weight a heavy pressure against your clit. "I don't ever want you to stop."

"I won't", he pants, his breath fanning over your face. "I can't." 

He tries to communicate how he feels with his body and you can feel it; the air thick with the love he feels for you. It's here in this bedroom, in the way he moves inside of you, in his hands as they stroke you and he wants to fill you with it; fill your ears with his praise, breathe his love into your lungs, fuck it into your pussy until he fills you there too. 

You beg him to fill you up, telling him that you need it, that you need him and he grabs the crook of your knee to push your leg up higher around his torso as his hips rock into you. His heavy weight between your legs, his mouth on your collarbone, the scent of his hair when when you press your nose into it; all of these combine to tip you over the edge and your arms are a vice up around his broad shoulders when he follows you shortly after with a sharp thrust inside; a muffled, deep groan as he bites down on your shoulder. 

The sun slowly illuminating the room, the two of you rest together; his body still on top of yours as you tuck the blanket up over his shoulders, encasing you both. Stroking his hair away from his face, your nails drag against his scalp and he closes his eyes to focus on the soothing feeling, the comforting rise and fall of your chest under his cheek. You can feel him sliding back into sleep, so you rest your lips against his forehead, telling him it's time to get up. 

He groans in complaint, squeezing you tighter with his arms and burrowing deeper into the blanket. He doesn't want to get up, not yet, not still inside you like he is and when he shakes his head no, you laugh. 

"What are you going to do? Call into work?", you ask and he sighs heavily in response. Remembering the whole reason he wanted to wake you up in the first place, he kisses the hollow of your throat before dipping his tongue into it, his mouth moving down your chest until he gets to your breast. 

"Frankie", you gently scold, watching the top of his head as it moves downward. 

He pays you no mind, instead looking up at you when he rubs his lips against your nipple until it hardens under his attention. A mischievous look on his face, he licks it once, twice and you try to look stern but your expression melts into pleasure when he draws it into his mouth, gliding his tongue over it before softly biting it. 

Hissing as he gently tugs on it with his teeth, you pull grab his face and pull him off of you. "Tell you what", you murmur as he turns his head to kiss the heel of your hand, seeking your wrist out with his lips. "If we get out of bed right now, we should have just enough time to shower together."

His eyes flick back to yours, the interest obvious on his face as his mouth halts. Faster than you can stop him, he pulls out of you and pushes up to kneel between your legs while you protest at the rush of cold air that washes over your skin as he takes the blanket with him. 

He leaves you on the bed when he walks into the bathroom to get the shower started and when you join him in the hot, humid room, he is holding open the curtain for you; a look on his face like he just remembered something. Climbing in, you laugh when you hear his eager voice behind you. 

"Isn't today the 30th? I think that movie I’ve been waiting for comes out today."


	11. Home Video

“Sing it, girl!”, Frankie yells, laughing and drumming his hands against the steering wheel in time with the beat. 

You preen under his praise, rolling your shoulders in time with the music and belt out the song: 

“Oh, thunder, only happens when it’s raining, players, only love you when they’re playing”, your eyes closing as you dance along. He smiles, occasionally glancing at the road while trying to keep his gaze on you. 

You keep singing the song, one of your favorites; one you picked specifically for the long car ride up to the cabin, knowing the group was a favorite of his. He hums most of it, his upper body and head moving in time as he drives along the single lane road; thick trees lining each side, warm summer air flowing in through the open windows of the truck. 

When the song ends and switches to the next one on the mix, he groans out loud at the choice, laughing when he hears the intro beat. 

“Are you serious, baby?”, he teases, watching you slide closer to him on the bench seat. 

“Oh be quiet, Frankie”, you reply, settling in next to him, your thigh right up against his. “I know you know this song, don’t pretend like you don’t.”

He rolls his eyes in exasperation, shaking his head with a grin. 

“IF I know this song”, he smiles, resting a hand on your thigh, “and I’m not saying I do, but if I happen to know some of the words, it’s only because you play it so much.”

You nod, a face of mock belief and you reach forward to slowly turn the volume up. Leaning back, you sing into his ear. 

“I know you’re always on the night shift, but I can’t stand these nights alone”, you croon, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before the next line starts, “and I don’t need no explanation”, your hand, resting on his thigh, moves up to cup the crotch of his pants with a light squeeze , “cause baby, you’re the boss at home.”

He nods in agreement at the last lyric, reaching down to remove your hand from his cock, bringing it to his mouth for a kiss. You watch his mouth mold around your knuckles, the tickle of his mustache against the skin and you smile at how sweet the gesture is; especially how sweet is it compared to what you just did to him. 

Letting the song play in the background, you situate your legs so that the gear stick is between your knees and Frankie watches you, his eyebrows raising at the sight. 

“What are you doing there, baby?”, he asks, shifting the gear he is driving in just so his forearm moves against your bare leg. 

“I’ve always wanted to learn how to drive a stick shift”, you reply, watching the muscles on his arm flex as he grips the stick to move it back into the previous gear. His thigh flexes against yours when he presses down on the clutch and your gaze lingers on the sight of it moving under the fabric of his pants. Dragging your eyes up to his face, he winks at you, knowing exactly what you were just admiring and you smile sweetly. “What do you think, baby? Think I got the skills it requires?”

When you say this, you reach to place one hand gently over his, a light grip over his hand gently resting on the top of the gear stick and you place the other one back on his cock; the implication clear to the both of you. When he tightens his grip on the gear stick, you mirror the action with the hand in his lap and you feel him twitch under your palm. 

“I think”, a wry grin on his face, “I think you better stop before I crash this fucking truck.”

__

The cabin being deep in the woods, it’s another hour before you get there and you both carry your stuff inside, dumping it in the living room and immediately walking out the back door. Heading down to the dock, Frankie is already peeling his clothes off - his t-shirt dropped here, boots toed off there, belt and jeans discarded on the bench with a hop to get out of them - and you follow in his actions, gently draping your dress over the bench down by the water. 

The cabin being remote (one of the features Frankie insisted on) neither one of you have any qualms over jumping in in your underwear and the water feels extraordinarily good on your warm, sweaty skin. You spend an hour or so swimming, most of it spent with your legs wrapped tight around his waist, your arms around each other as he stayed shallow enough to walk through the water pressed together; your underwear eventually peeled off and thrown onto the dock with a wet slap. 

Eventually dragging yourselves out, you lay out beach towels from the chest by the bench and spread out with him to air dry; both of you on your stomachs, your arms curled under your chins. Having gotten up fairly early, Frankie drifts off to sleep while you play with his curls, the dark brown of them slowly lightening as they dry in the afternoon sun. Admiring for a moment how young he looks like this, face relaxed in sleep, you shift onto your side and drape your arm over his back, settling in to take a nap yourself. 

In the best mood while making dinner (”I’m on vacation with my baby”, he replies, kissing your cheek before heading out to the grill, beer in hand), he seems keyed up and handsy the rest of the night; standing behind you while you stack the dishes in the sink, sliding his hands quickly up the front of your shirt to gently run the pads of his fingers over the tops of your breasts, his mouth a soft, warm press on the back of your neck and following you into the bedroom when you change into your soft shorts and tank top; not letting you get dressed until he kissed you breathless, his body tight to yours. 

The movie already loaded into the DVD player, the remote by his side, he settles into the couch and reaches out for you when you come to join him. The room dark with you having just turned off the lights, you go to sit on the cushion next to him, but instead you sit partially in his lap and before you can move, his hands drag you fully onto him. 

“Frankie”, you say softly, reaching back to cup his head and leaning your own against his shoulder, turning to nuzzle his cheek, “I think it might be hard to watch the movie like this.”

“I think it’ll be okay”, he murmurs, pressing play on the remote. The blank blue screen bypasses a title menu and you only question it for a moment before the movie automatically starts, the image on the TV a familiar one. 

“Baby? Baby, is that –”, you pause, transfixed by what you see on the screen. Him, sitting on the edge of the bed in your room, camera pointed at his nude body; his skin golden in the glow of the lamp. Circling his cock with his fingers, he lets out a barely audible groan as he begins to stroke himself and you feel a hitch in your breath, the sight stealing the air from your lungs. You are frozen in place as Frankie presses kisses to your hairline, his mouth slowly moving closer to your ear. 

Not being able to look away from the TV, you barely register it when Frankie gently opens your legs with his hands, spreading them over his thighs, your knees on the outside of his. He shifts his hips lower on the couch, pulling you back against his body until you are reclining on him and it’s overwhelming when the panting on the screen matches the hot breath ghosting over the back of your neck.

“What do you think?”, he whispers into your hairline, his hand pushing down under your soft shorts. “Wanna keep watching?”

You slowly turn your head to his, your eyes clouded with lust and he captures your mouth in a kiss, gliding his tongue along your bottom lip before pushing it into your mouth. Your movements slowly catching up, you reach up to rest your hand over his cheek, deepening the kiss while your other hand slips under your shorts to rest over his. His fingers parting you, you follow the line of his hand down as he slides two fingers into you and you arch into his touch, using your hand over his to press him further inside. 

Breaking away from the kiss, you turn your face back towards the TV and he rests his chin on your shoulder, looking down your body towards where your hands are moving together. Wanting to see more, he uses his other hand to drag the fabric of your shorts to the side, slowly revealing your hand over his; both working together with a flex while he strokes inside of you. 

“Do you like the movie, baby?”, his voice deep and sinful and full in your ear and you nod dumbly, staring at the way his forearm flexes on the screen, his fist pumping himself; the occasional strained groan that comes through the speakers. 

“I was thinking of you when I made it; doing this with you”, he tells you, his tongue sweeping over the shell of your ear. “I thought about how wet your pussy would get while watching it; watching me fuck myself. Is your pussy wet, baby?”

You say nothing, you know he doesn’t need an answer because he can feel how soaked you are on his fingers, his hand, the slick of it dripping out of you onto his lap. 

“I want to make you come when I do, baby”, he says over your soft moan when he strokes you deep, adding his thumb to your clit. “When I come on the movie, I want you to come. Think you can do that?”

You’ve never been so turned on in your life; the Frankie on the screen in front of you, impossibly beautiful and erotic and the solid, warm body of real life Frankie behind you; his hand working you just like you like, his voice in your ear. 

“Yes”, you say breathlessly, clenching down on his fingers when the on screen Frankie opens his legs wider, flexing up into his own hand, “Yes, I can do it. I can come with you.”

“That’s my good girl”, he whispers and you let your head loll back against his shoulder as the both of you watch the movie. You watch his actions on screen and imagine him in your bedroom, making this movie; doing this, on your bed, the way it must have sounded in real life and you moan at how his fingers feel right now inside of you, thick and full; always moving. 

The way you move on top of him, your hips chasing his hand as he glides his thick fingers in and out of you, your hand still resting on top of his, he adds a third finger with ease and you cry out, your hand falling limply to the couch; fisting the edge of the cushion. 

“Are you gonna come soon, baby?”, you ask, the end of the question trailing into a moan, your back arching up off of him as your hips grind into his hand, his lap. “Because I think – I think I’m gonna –”

“I know you are, baby, I can feel it”, he soothes. “Your pussy always gets so wet before you come.” He drops the fabric of your shorts he was holding, instead gripping your hips tight to his while he increases the pace of his fingers. Anchoring you against him, he tells you to keep your eyes on the video; the image of him stroking faster and faster. “Watch, baby. Keep your eyes on me.”

A flutter of your walls at the sight of Frankie leaning back on one arm, his thick, rigid cock tight in his fist and you feel him press down on your clit and hold it when the first spurt of come spills out on screen. The aching warmth in your core bursts; your soft moan in time with his deeper one through the speakers. 

“God, baby; yes”, Frankie groans into your ear, shoving his fingers as deep as they can go while you come around them and you are still gripping the cushion, your other hand over his on your hip as you tense on top of his body. Your hips roll a few times as you watch Frankie continue to stroke himself, his cock coated with cum as he keeps gliding his fist and you shut your eyes; the sight of it too much with how stretched you feel inside. 

Working you through it, you can feel the tension in Frankie’s body underneath you, his hard cock pressed into your ass and as soon as your body sags into his, he is pushing you up and off of him. Guiding you onto the floor, you kneel on the carpet on all fours while he follows you down, frantically working at the button of his jeans. Dropping down to your forearms, you rest your forehead against the carpet and you are still feeling aftershocks from your release when he pulls your shorts down over your ass, lining up with you and immediately sinking in, down to the base. 

You try to fist the carpet, your moan muffled by it when his hips are sharp against your ass as he pounds into you, his hands smoothing over your ass cheeks and spreading you before gliding up your back to grip you tight, pulling your hips back against him as he thrusts into you. The movie having ended, the sounds of the real Frankie are just as intoxicating, just as filthy as the ones that played earlier; his grunts with every thrust forward, his deep voice telling you how good you feel, how he loves to fill you like this, how good you take his cock and it’s only a dozen or so strokes before he comes with a loud groan, pressing tight to you. 

Reaching down, he pulls you up off of the floor onto his lap as he sits back on his heels and his arms are a strong band around you, holding you close as his face is buried between your shoulders while he catches his breath. Stroking his arms, you shift slightly on his lap and you feel him jerk underneath you; his cock still deep inside and you both stay there for a moment; reveling in the feeling of each other. 

You pull off of him, the warm spill of his come dripping out of you and you lay back against the carpet, motioning for him to join you. He sits, on his heels, looking at how beautiful you are, spread out for him, warm for him, full of him and when you make room for him between your legs, he leans down to kiss the dip of your hip, the soft skin of your belly, the crease of your thigh. 

It’s heaven being worshipped by him like this; your hands sliding through his soft curls, the scrape of his beard on your skin, the way he looks at you so soft, so adoring and you are lost in thought about how sweet he was to plan this weekend and that video for you when you feel his mouth; warm and wet on your pussy. 

Oh god, Frankie you breathe when he licks into you and you feel a hum from him as he tastes the two of you together; his tongue a soft, firm glide through your folds and up to your clit. He feels your hips jerk back, still sensitive from before and you feel him smile against you when he licks again; again. 

Pressing a soft kiss to your clit, he moves up to join you on the carpet and when he softly chuckles, you ask him what he is laughing at. 

“Nothing. I was thinking of that song.”

Your face a confused frown, you are not sure what song he is referencing and he sings a line to you. 

“Putting overtime on your body”, he sings lowly, badly, the end of the lyric ending in a laugh and your face is triumphant in having caught him.

“Frankie Morales, I KNEW you liked that –”, you begin; your sentence silenced by his mouth when he leans in for a kiss.


	12. Runtime

“Frankie”, you sigh, pushing your hips back against his, the curve of your ass fitting just right against this lap. 

“I know”, he murmurs in your ear, grasping your hip and holding you in place. “I know it’s a lot, but you can do it.”

Swallowing thickly, you take a deep breath and nod, pressing your cheek into the throw pillow as you let out another soft moan. 

He shifts his hips behind you, pushing into you further and your breath hitches as he slides his hand up the front of your shirt, curling his fingers around your shoulder to hold you tight against his chest. 

You were slightly confused when you went to join him on the couch for an afternoon movie at his request and there was a towel laid out on the cushion, but now you know why; now you understand as your pussy flutters around his cock, a rush of slick escaping onto his soaked lap. 

You are so wet, so fucking wet, and the movie still has forty five minutes left.

“You’re doing so good, baby”, he praises you, glancing down between your bodies, his cock swelling inside you at the sight of your plush, bare ass pressed against his hip bones. He wants to reach down and palm it; squeeze it in his broad hand until the flesh spills out between his fingers, but he needs to hold you tight right now, to make sure you don’t pull off him. 

Taking deep breaths to fight the throbbing pulse between your legs, you watch the movie, focusing on it for the first time since it started and you let out a low moan when the sex scene starts; Frankie’s thick fingers sliding down between your legs to press against your clit in time with the actor’s thrusts. 

His breath is hot on the back of your neck, his mouth warm and wet against your skin and you hold onto his forearm, your nails digging into the firm muscle as he grinds his cock into you, never pulling out. 

“Do you want me to fuck you like that, baby?”, he asks, tucking his chin over your shoulder to see your face. “Watch the movie - you wish I was doing that to you right now?”

Clouded with lust, your eyes take a second to focus on the screen and you watch the couple fuck; the man’s strong back flexing as he holds himself above the woman, her legs thrown over his shoulders as he pounds into her. 

“Frankie, please”, you beg and he works his fingers faster against your clit; a slippery glide over and over while his thick cock rests inside of you. He can feel you squeeze him tight and another hot leak of slick coats his cock; he knows you are gonna come soon, you always get so fucking wet right before you do. 

He doesn’t want that though, not yet, so he pulls his hand away from your clit and you sob, trying to hold it in place. Gently pulling his forearm out of your grip, he brings his hand to his mouth and sucks on the digits, groaning around his own fingers and you reach back and grab his ass, trying to pull him deeper inside of you as you listen to the obscene sounds.

“You taste so fucking good, baby”, he whispers, tracing the shell of your ear with his tongue. “I can’t wait to fuck you with my mouth later; bury my tongue in your pussy until you come on my face, just like I like it.”

You say nothing, your eyes closed tight as you listen to him talk, his low, rich voice filling your head: your pussy is so fucking wet, but I need to get it wet so it can take my cock, need to fuck my come into you so I can eat it and you feel him twitch deep inside of you; his own words turning him on. 

The movie has about twenty minutes left and you feel like you are going mad, with sweat beaded at your temples and your lower back, your pulse racing in your chest. You thought it sounded nice when he asked you if he could put his cock in you while you watched the movie, thought it sounded sweet even, but there is nothing sweet about how he immediately started whispering filth into your ear, started licking and kissing the nape of your neck as he dipped his fingers down to play with your clit off and on. 

“Fifteen minutes, baby and then I’m gonna fuck you, okay?”, he tells you and you reach back, sliding your fingers through his soft curls, grasping them tight in your hold as you keep him in place; his mouth a wet slide against your shoulder. 

“I’m gonna fuck you right on this couch, gonna put your legs over my shoulders and fuck your pussy deep, just like you like it”, he says, his voice strained and tight in your ear as he shifts his hips against yours. “You’ve been so good for me and - fuck - I’m gonna fuck you until you beg me to stop; gonna fuck you until your pussy is so full of my come that it can’t hold any more and then I’m gonna finally pull out and watch it leak out.”

“Frankie!”, you cry out, rolling your hips against his and he pushes back against you, finally giving you something, but it’s not enough and he knows it.

“I’m gonna watch it leak out”, he continues, “gonna taste it with my tongue and then I’m gonna put my cock back inside of you and make you sleep with it there, buried deep in your soaked pussy.”

Yes Frankie you gasp and he smiles against your skin; you can feel the stretch of his cheeks, the soft, prickly glide of his beard dragging over your flesh. 

“Ten more minutes, baby”, he murmurs. “Can you make it?”


	13. Movie Trivia Night

Okay; so maybe you were a little too confident.

Surely Movie Trivia night at the local bar will be a piece of cake - the two of you watch so many movies, you should be able to place pretty high in the standings, or at least do pretty well for yourselves, but the truth quickly becomes apparent around the 2nd round: the two of you don’t actually remember any of these movies.

Well, not the plot anyway.

Taking a gulp of your beer, you peek over the top of your glass at Frankie and you can tell he has come to the same conclusion; his eyes holding yours for a moment with a rueful grin, a small shrug of his shoulders.

“What the hell are you guys doing these movies?”, Santi jokes, reaching for the pitcher in the middle of the table. “Didn’t you guys just watch this one last night?”

Frankie, stretched out on the floor of the living room and you, riding his face as his fingers dig painfully into your hips, pressing you tight to his mouth and you cry out for him, begging him not to stop exactly what he is doing. Leaning forward to brace yourself on the carpet to open yourself up more for him, grinding your clit into his nose and you reach down underneath you to grab a handful of his thick curls, your stomach taut with tension just before you –

“Yea, but I think we fell asleep or something”, Frankie answers him, taking a casual swallow of his own beer and looking at you as you blink out of your daze.

“Yea”, you agree, slowly nodding at his answer, “I think it was pretty boring, from what I can remember about it.”

–

Round after round this continues – you know you’ve seen these movies, but when you dig for the details in your mind, all you can remember is Frankie.

In the Matrix, does Neo take the blue pill or the red pill?

The two of you tangled on the couch, frantically pulling at each other’s clothing while his hand works its way beneath the waistband of your shorts. Sinking two fingers into you, he coats them with your slick before drawing them out and pushing them into your mouth. You suck on them with relish as he groans; your own fingers fumbling with the button on his jeans –

Who is Keyser Soze in the film The Usual Suspects?

You, kneeling on the floor between his legs; his hand gently holding your head down on his lap, this tip of his cock touching the back of your throat and you breathe heavily through your nose, the strong exhales gusting through his pubic hair and he flexes his hips up into your wet mouth, feeling it flood with saliva as you keep him inside as deep as you can –

American Hustle is a fictionalized retelling of what famous sting operation?

“Oh god, Frankie”, you moan as his heavy weight pushes you deep into the cushions of the couch, your legs up over his shoulders as he leans forward, bracing himself on the armrest above your head and you can’t breathe; the weight of him squeezing the air out of your lungs; the full, overwhelming feeling of his cock so deep inside and he presses a quick kiss to your calve while murmuring his praise, “You’re doing so good for me, baby, just a little more” –

The guys keep teasing, Frankie deflecting each one with a quip or a witty remark or a harsh retort and you wonder if he remembers the same things you do; his easy going face never betraying his thoughts.

Needing to get some air, you slide off the stool at the next question: “What does police chief Martin Brody use to kill the shark at the end of Jaws?” (the night Frankie bent you over the ottoman, tugging on your hair as he fucked you from behind) and when you slide off your stool to use the restroom, you brace yourself on his thigh and your fingertips can feel a bulge in his jeans. He plays it off, gently scooting back on his own chair while asking you if you need help and you lock eyes. 

He remembers every single one of these nights.

–

“Do you think they noticed, baby?”, you ask, buckling yourself in as Frankie starts the truck.

Smoothly pulling out of the parking space, he tells you he doesn’t think so. “They probably just think we can’t stay up that late or something.”

You smile to yourself, looking out the window. If they only knew how late Frankie kept you up.

Reaching your hand out for him, he takes it in his own and brings it to his mouth, softly kissing the knuckles of it while keeping an eye on the road.

Enjoying the company of each other for a moment, you break the silence when you suddenly laugh. “Oh god, baby. Remember when they asked that question about Psycho?”

He huffs a laugh, a wistful look on his face as he turns into your neighborhood. “Yea, that was a good night. What about that one about Jupiter Ascending?”

A flutter in your belly at the mention of that movie, your laugh isn’t as strong this time as you think about that night: the movie being so incredibly boring, Frankie had turned to you almost immediately and by the time the movie was done, he had made you come three times. Your body was still sore the next morning with how thoroughly he had worked you over.

“Do you remember what we did that night, baby?”, he asks quietly, his voice slowly dragging you out of the thought as he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine.

Looking at him, your eyes are already hooded with lust and you feel the cab of the truck fill with tension as each of you think about that night. His face mirrors yours, his own eyes dark as they watch you and he shifts slightly in his seat, gently pulling on the crotch of his jeans as he adjusts himself. You watch the movement, admiring the thickness of his fingers, the heft of him outlined under the fabric and you feel like you are burning alive from the inside out when you unbuckle and launch yourself over the bench seat.

Frantically unbuckling himself, he reaches out for you and immediately drags you onto his lap, shoving your skirt up around your hips while you pull him in for a searing kiss.

“Take me out, baby”, he begs against your lips and you are already working on his belt, the leather of it creaking in your hand as you rip it open, your hands slightly shaking with urgency when you move onto the button of his jeans, his zipper. His breath catches against your mouth when you shove your hand under the denim and he slides his hips down in the seat to give you more room as you pull him out; the steering wheel of the truck digging into your lower back.

Pulling back, you let his cock rest heavy against his stomach as you reach between your legs, sliding your panties to the side to press two fingers into yourself and he lets out a low groan at the sight of it. His broad hands resting on your thighs, his grip tightens on your skin as you gather slick on your fingers; your mouth open at the pleasure, the relief you feel at the touch and you when you get momentarily lost in the sensation he pleads please, baby, touch me.

Pulling your fingers out of your pussy, you lean forward and brace yourself on the seat back while you reach down and circle his length with your soaked hand. The sound he lets out; the deep almost sob as his head tips back into the headrest, fills the cab of the truck and you look at the long, lean line of his throat, the top two buttons of his flannel open to expose the tanned, smooth skin underneath.

“Oh god, Frankie, remember when they said “Arrival”?”, you pant, and he says it at the same time as you, groans the word out as you stroke him because yes; yes he does remember that night, the image of you is seared into his memory.

He is firm and hot in your grip and you need him, have been thinking about him all night and while he is such a pretty sight undone under your touch, you shift up onto your knees and open your legs wider to get ready to slide him into you.

“Fuck; yes”, he gasps, hurriedly reaching out to roughly push the damp crotch of your underwear to the side as his other hand slides under the back of it to grip your ass, pulling you close. You want to take your time, the first slide in always being the most delicious stretch, but you can’t wait and you feel the blunt, thick tip of him against your entrance for a second before you sink down until your hips are flush with his.

You whine loudly at the fullness and scoot your knees forward, the seat of the truck a rough drag against your legs as you press closer to him. Your hips already rolling over his, he pushes up into you and for a moment, there is only this: frantic movements, harsh panting, thick kisses when you lean down to open his mouth with yours. You know it has to be fast; know you shouldn’t be fucking in the goddamn driveway but he seems just as needy as you right now, his hands clutching your hips to move you over him as he tells you how he thought about this all night, couldn’t think about anything but your pussy, your mouth, the way you always take him so good.

“Frankie”, you moan, your hand braced on the ceiling of the truck. “What about when they said “Inception”, remember what we did then?”

“Yes; YES”, he groans, as you roll your hips fast over his.

“Tell me, baby”, your eyes squeezed shut, your fist a tight grip on his t-shirt.

“You – fuck, baby, you feel so good”, he grits out, shoving his own hips up until you cry out. “That’s when you let me come in your mouth and some”, a groan when you squeeze him tight, “of it got on your chest and you let me lick it off.”

Letting go of his shirt, you palm his chin and tip his head back so you can lean down and press your open mouth against his neck. Your tongue licking his skin, you feel the vibration of his moan against your lips, taste the salt of his skin as you drag your mouth over the hollow of his throat. You’ve been thinking about this particular part of his body all night in that bar, watching his throat bob with a swallow every time he took a drink of beer, every time he laughed at the guys and you nip at it with your teeth, soothing the marks you leave behind with a wet glide of your tongue.

Grinding your hips faster against his, you are so close to coming when he reaches between your bodies to find your clit with his thumb.

“Come on, baby”, he murmurs and you bite down on his neck as he rubs you. “I’m gonna come but I want to feel you do it first.”

Oh god, Frankie, just; just like – and you can’t finish your sentence because you come around him; your body locking up as your hips jerk over his. He feels a flood of slick around his cock, feels how tight you squeeze him and he clutches the soft fabric of your dress in his fists as he fucks up into you, once, twice before holding you down on his cock as he spills into you.

Your body is limp on top of him as you catch your breath, his own soft pants warm against your shoulder when he kisses the sweat damp skin there. Pulling back to look at him, the two of you immediately start laughing at how ridiculous the whole situation is and you pull him in for a kiss. A soft, lingering one while he stays inside of you, his hands letting go of your dress to roam up under it, sliding up over your lower back and stroking the soft skin there.

“Do you think anyone saw us?”, you ask, peering over towards the neighbors’ house.

He leans his head against the back of the bench seat, smiling at the question. “Well, I think the windows are too fogged to see anything, but that alone is probably enough to let them know what is happening in here.” He winks.

You laugh lightly, reaching to twirl a curl of his hair around your finger. The two of you look at each other for a moment, not wanting to leave the warm cabin of the truck, not wanting to leave the embrace of each other. Your eyes roam over his broad chest, the width of his shoulders, the pale, dark mark you left on his neck. You admire how sated he looks right now, his warm brown eyes so soft as they gaze back up at you and you shift your hips on his lap in a reminder that he is still inside you.

“Hey”, you ask, giving your hips another little roll, “wanna go inside and watch a movie?”

He groans a laugh, his little belly shaking with it and his cheeks stretch with a smile, the deep crinkles around his eyes growing with it.

“I think you’re gonna kill me”, he replies, closing his eyes at the way your nails are dragging over his scalp as you push through his hair. “But yes – yes I do.”


	14. Movie Quotes

“There’s no crying in baseball!”, Frankie yells out into the woods and you laugh, following behind him, the leaves crunching beneath your feet.

“Come on, baby”, you smile, shrugging your daypack higher up on your back, “That one is too easy.”

“Okay, okay”, he agrees with a nod, swiping at the sprawling bushes bordering the path with a reedy stick. “What about this one -- “Mrs. Robinson, you’re trying to seduce me, aren’t you?”

You roll your eyes, quickening your pace behind him to reach out and tug on his flannel and he stops, stumbling back into you. Sliding your arms around his waist, you tuck your chin over his shoulder and putting your mouth right next to his ear, you drop your voice an octave in your best Mrs. Robinson impression.

“Why no; I hadn’t thought of it”, you murmur lowly into his ear and he laughs; a deep, rich, lovely sound.

“Yea right”, he teases, turning to face you, his eyes shaded by the brim of his hat as his smile stretches wide. “You think about it all the time.” He winks.

Leaning in for a kiss, you nod, your nose sliding against his cheek before you press your lips to his and you can feel him smiling against your mouth as he leans into it. His lips are soft against yours, gently parting to catch your bottom lip between his and he hums into your mouth before deepening it, opening his mouth wider to taste you.

His hands curl around your hips and slide down, fondling your ass through the tight fabric of your leggings and he pulls you flush to his body, moving his mouth to your jaw.

“Frankie”, you sigh, curling your arms around his neck, “Frankie honey, we probably should wait until we get back to our tent.”

“I know”, he mumbles, poking his tongue out to lick the salty, sweat damp patch of skin just below your ear. Humming in contentment, he continues down the side of your neck, pressing open mouthed kisses into your skin and he likes the way you jump slightly in his arms when he reaches under the curve of your ass with a stretch, cupping your cheek in his hand and giving it a rough squeeze.

You are about to reprimand him when you feel the first raindrop, quickly followed by the second, then the third. Splashing onto your cheek and sliding down, you watch the ground quickly dot with the dark drops and Frankie pulls away from you, squinting up at the sky.

“What the hell”, he groans, “I didn’t think it was supposed to rain today.” Grabbing your hand, he tugs you forward and the two of you walk quickly towards your campsite.

“Thankfully, it doesn’t seem to be raining too hard”, you say, but as soon as the words leave your lips, the rain starts coming down in heavy, soaking sheets.

“Run, baby!”, Frankie yells at you and you shriek with laughter, trying to keep your head down as you follow his form down the path. Your clothing already plastered to your body, you peek up at Frankie and feel an immediate sympathy for him; his jeans clinging to his legs, his flannel dark and soaked with the rain, the soft curls at the back of his neck drenched. He turns to make sure you are right behind him and he laughs, reaching for your hand.

“Stop checking me out and come on!”

\--

“You’re so full of shit, Frankie Morales”, you laugh, crouching in the tent as you peel your shirt over your head.

“I swear to god, baby”, he replies, tossing his flannel into the corner with a wet slap. “You know I’d know; I’ve been on enough camping trips.”

“Yea?”, you tease, working your leggings down your legs as he watches, momentarily ceasing his movements to stare. “And who did you share the sleeping bag with? Santi or --?”

Grabbing you around your waist, he wrestles you to the ground while you laugh; your hands slapping at him as he tugs on the waistband of your damp panties, sliding them down and off with your pants.

“I’m telling you”, he says with a smile, kneeling between your legs as he rips his t-shirt off, throwing it to the side, “we need to share a sleeping bag to warm up.”

“Warm up, huh?”, you ask, admiring his bare chest and watching as he pushes his hands under the waistband of his boxer briefs, sliding them down his hips. “I think you just wanna fuck me in that sleeping bag.”

You can see the outline of his cock, heavy between his thighs, through the wet fabric and you want to reach out and palm it, but he quickly removes the last remaining article of clothing, tossing it to the side. Crawling up your body with a grin, he slowly settles his weight on top of you, gently grinding his hips into yours.

“Well, yea”, he replies with a wink.

\--

Zipping the two sleeping bags together, the two of you are pressed tight inside the warm, compact space: your skin tacky and damp, partially from the rain; partially from the build up of body heat within the bag.

The rain drums heavily on the tent but all Frankie can hear are your sweet whimpers, your heavy pants, your breathy moans as he works you with his hand; his thick fingers buried inside of you. He’s already made you come once around the digits and when you cried out for him, he swallowed the sound with his mouth pressed against yours. 

He wants to make you do it again, so he keeps going, feeling your pussy fluttering around the calloused pads when you stop him.

“Frankie”, you groan, reaching down to pull his hand away from you, “wait – wait, baby.”

His face looks down at you with a questioning frown and he slides his fingers out with a slow drag. You watch as he waits for you to tell him what you need, bringing his fingers up to his mouth and pushing them past his lips, sucking your slick off them. 

He does it leisurely, like he has all the time in the world to relish the taste and you temporarily forget what you are going to say as you watch the way his lips wrap around his fingers, his plump lower lip looking especially enticing. His eyebrows raise, waiting for you and you are pulled out of your daze.

“I wanted to fuck you, baby”, you say, rolling onto your side and reaching down to circle his cock with your hand. You touch your lips to his pebbled throat, feeling the way he swallows under your mouth and he softly grunts, flexing his hips into your touch. “I want to ride you; want to feel your cock deep inside me like that.”

He hums at the thought and it’s a shuffle inside the sleeping bag when he holds you tight and rolls onto his back, taking you with him. You can’t sit up with the bag zipped up around you, but you can open your legs wider as you straddle him, his hot, firm chest pressed tight against your breasts.

The two of you quietly laugh at the awkward fumble when you reach down to drag his cock through your folds to line him up, the way it takes a second to get the angle just right but when you finally sink down on the tip of him, he stops laughing and watches your face as his thick cock stretches you inside.

Your eyes clenched shut, your mouth a silent moan, you sharply inhale when you work him in, a tight fit with the cramped angle. Scooting your knees forward a little and pushing down with your hips, you take more of him inside and your breath hitches at the way his cock drags against your opening. 

His eyes darkening while he watches your face; he is feral at the thought of how it might be too much for you, how he might be too thick for you and his hands grip your hips tighter, a spurt of precome dribbling out into your soaked folds. 

“Come on, baby”, he murmurs, feeling your pussy clench around the tip of him, “you can fit it, I know you can.”

“I know, I –“, you moan in frustration, tilting your hips forward to take more of him inside and he grips your skin tighter still, planting his feet on the ground to brace himself before shoving his hips upwards.

“Frankie!”, you cry out, his cock filling you completely in one thrust and you drape yourself over his chest, resting your forearms on the bottom of the tent while he rests his broad hand over your lower back, the other one still gripping your hip as he starts to fuck into you, holding you firmly in place.

He can’t wait, he just keeps thinking about how your face looked when you tried to work him in and his thrusts are fast and hard, making you bounce against his body. The sleeping bag has become unbearably hot, sweat gathering in pools between your skin and from this angle, the soft tuft of hair above his cock is gliding against your clit and it feels so good, you know you are gonna come soon, but this isn’t what you wanted.

Pushing up off the ground, you hunt for the zipper along the side of the bag and Frankie stops, asking you what you are doing; if you are okay.

“I just –“, you reply, finally finding the small piece of metal and tugging on it until you hear the drag of the zipper opening. Pulling it down further, cool air rushes in as the sleeping bag opens and you slowly sit all the way up.

“I wanted it like this”, you moan, finally able to fit your hips against his, finally able to feel the deep, pleasant stretch of him all the way inside and you roll your hips over him once, twice, bracing yourself on his soft belly.

If he thought he was turned on before, it was nothing compared to the sight of you taking what you want, the clear look of unrestrained pleasure on your face right now as you ride him just the way you wanted to and he rubs his warm hands up and down the top of your thighs, letting you take what you need.

He watches as your hand drifts up to your clit, gently rubbing the pads of your fingers against it as your hips work back and forth, back and forth and he doesn’t think he has ever been so aroused while at the same time so filled with love; you look so fucking beautiful right now. His cock swells inside of you and he takes a deep, shuddering breath in as you fuck yourself on him, your pussy dripping onto his lap.

Tipping your head back, you blindly reach your other hand out and he presses his fingers between yours, holding you steady as you continue to move your hips. Frankie, you call out, Frankie is this okay and he can’t even speak; this is more than okay, this is perfect, this is all he ever wants for the rest of his life.

Looking down at him, your sweet smile a contrast with how absolutely filthy you look right now with his cock buried deep inside you and your fingers on your clit and you lean forward when he brings your joined hands to his mouth, kissing your knuckles before letting it go to place your hand on his chest. 

He reaches up to cup your breasts in his hands, sliding his thumbs over the pebbled peaks and you tell him that you’ve been waiting all day to fuck him like this, that you wanted it when you woke up this morning, wanted to make him watch and he groans, tipping his head back into the hard ground.

Your eyes admiring the outstretched line of his throat, you roll your hips faster over him and keep talking: that you thought about asking him to pull the truck over on the way here, that you couldn’t stop thinking about how you could see the shape of his cock through his jeans while he drove and when he groans again, flexing his hips off the ground to meet your thrusts, you just get louder, speaking over his sounds.

“I wondered if you would fuck me in the woods if I asked you to”, you say breathlessly, your voice slightly strained, “and then you took your clothes off in the tent and I wanted to reach out and touch your cock through your underwear, wanted to feel it in my hand, wanted to squeeze it a little and feel you get hard.”

“Fuck”, he spits out, sliding his hands down to your hips to frantically drag you faster and faster over his lap. Leaning down until your face is right above his, you make sure he is looking at you when you tell him what you really wanted: this.

“Most of all I wanted to fuck myself with your cock”, you say, your eyes fixed on his; his pupils blown wide with lust. “I wanted you to watch me make myself come, watch me fuck myself on your big cock until I felt it deep inside me, until I feel you tomorrow morning when I walk around, until I feel it on the drive home, sitting in my seat.”

You sit back up, your fingers rubbing tight, fast circles over your clit, your hips rolling, rolling, rolling.

“Watch me, Frankie”, you say, your hips locking in place over his as you bear down on him, the tight, coiling heat in your belly burning brighter, “Watch me when I come, baby. Only you can make me come like this. Only your cock.” A roll of your hips. “Only your hands.” Another. “Only your mouth.” Another. “Only you, Frankie – only you.”

Your last words sliding into a moan, you come around his cock and his body is taut with tension as he feels everything; the way your pussy squeezes him tight, the way it floods with slick as you come, the way your thighs are trembling around his sides and he abruptly sits up, needing to be close to you.

Oh god you whisper, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and he kisses you fiercely, his mouth crashing into yours as he licks inside, swirling his tongue against yours.

His strong forearm is a brace around your lower back, his other hand gripping your ass as he tugs you forward onto his lap with a grunt and you slide your fingers up through the back of his sweat slick curls, holding on tight as he shoves you onto his cock.

“Only me”, he says, repeating your words to you and you nod, resting your forehead against his.

“Only you, baby.”

Holding you tight against his lap, he pulls you onto his cock once, twice and then he comes; a husky, loud groan against the side of your neck; his cock spilling deep inside of you. He is buried in your warmth, he doesn’t think he’s ever been this deep and you know you are going to feel it tomorrow, but that’s just what you wanted; to feel this man inside of you even when he isn’t.

“Jesus”, he breathes heavily, coming down from his high and reaching with one hand to brush your damp hair away from your face before kissing you sweetly.

You pull him tight, deepening the kiss, savoring the soft pants he is puffing into your mouth between kisses, the way you can feel his heart racing as you rest your hand against the side of his neck, he way he is still heavy inside of you.

His lips catch against yours when he pulls away and you smile, reaching to brush his hair away from his brow.

“You’re trembling”, you say quietly, looking into his warm, brown eyes.

He looks almost sheepish when he replies, a smile tugging at his lips. “Yea, that was something else.”

“No”, you reply, raising your eyebrows. “You’re trembling” – as in the movie quote.”

He stares at you for a minute, his cheeks beginning to stretch with a smile when you tell him it’s what Rose said to Jack, in Titanic.

“Remember, baby? After he fucks her in that car?”, you finish, squirming on his lap as he holds you in place.

“Jesus Christ”, he laughs, his torso shaking against yours as he pulls you in for a hug.

“You gonna fuck me in a car like he does, baby?” you ask, smiling against his shoulder and he laughs again, pressing a kiss to your skin.

“Sure – let’s do it on the way home tomorrow.”


	15. Movie Quotes: The Sequel

The fire crackling bright and hot in front of you, you watch the stick turn slowly – the fat puff of marshmallow speared on the end of it, slowly melting from the inside out. It’s been over the fire for a couple minutes now; just about perfect, you think.

You make a gimme motion with your hand at Frankie and he smiles, quickly snapping the graham cracker in half before placing a small square of chocolate on it. He watches as you peek to make sure it’s ready before thrusting your stick into the flames; the marshmallow quickly catching on fire.

His face is disgusted. 

“You just ruined it”, he sighs, looking from the flaming ball to your face; the flames dancing over your features, the light of them reflected in your eyes.

“No, I didn’t”, you reply. “I like it like that.”

He scrunches his nose up at the statement and you pull the stick from the fire, bringing the marshmallow close to his face.

“Quick – blow it out, baby.”

You watch him smirk quickly before pursing his lips and cupping his hand around the end of the stick, quickly blowing the flames out. You then take the bottom half of your sandwich to carefully place the marshmallow on it, but you frown when you see he’s only given you two squares of chocolate.

You are about to ask why he gave you so little when you watch him assemble his own sandwich; carefully placing six squares on his cracker. He looks up at you, smiling.

“You like yours like that”, he says, reaching for his stick that has been propped just on the outside of the flames for over five minutes, “and I like mine like this.”

His sandwich is a gooey mess, the marshmallow immediately oozing everywhere as he presses the sandwich down and he sets it to the side.

“I’m gonna let it melt all the chocolate”, he explains, grinning. “It takes a while.”

\--

Your body between his legs, you lean back against him and he is a warm, firm cushion against your back; his cheek resting against your hair and his arms wrapped around your shoulders.

“I would have done it, you know”, he says quietly, sliding his nose along your temple, pressing a kiss to your cheekbone. “I would have fucked you in the woods today if you didn’t stop me.”

“Are you serious?”, you ask with a shocked smile; thinking about how anyone could’ve walked by and seen you, how that shouldn’t turn you on so much, but it does.

“Yes”, he replies, kissing a line down your soft cheek before drawing the lobe of your ear into his mouth, nibbling on it before running his tongue over the skin. “You were wearing those leggings and I –”

You laugh, turning your head around to look at him.

“It’s always the leggings, huh?”, you smile, and he nods, a boyish smile stretching his cheeks wide.

“Or the dresses”, he says.

“Or my sports bra”, you tease.

“Or when you wear my shirts”, he laughs.

Sliding your hand up through his soft curls, you cup the crown of his head and pull him down for a kiss, his lips still sticky and sweet from his s’more earlier. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you can taste burned sugar there, hidden under his tongue and you hum in contentment, shifting your body sideways to press closer to him.

“You could do it now, you know”, murmuring against his lips, “You could fuck me outside right now.”

“Is that what you want?”, he asks lowly, cupping your face and pulling back to look at you. “You want me to fuck you out here? In front of this fire?”

His eyes are inky in the darkness, the brown mixing with the black and they are like two deep wells; endless in their depth. The fire burns bright in them and you watch the reflection of it, entranced by the way his gaze can pin you to the spot, can make your chest tighten with joy, can make your core throb with ache. You love those eyes – the way they crinkle when he smiles, the way they look when he looks at you, sometimes warm with affection, sometimes dark with lust.

You stare into them right now and he’s serious, he’ll do it; he’ll do anything you ask when it comes to this. He drops his hand down to your chest, briefly palming your breast through your layers before skating it down your side, dipping his fingertips under the hem of your shirt. He tugs the fabric up just enough to get at your skin, softly stroking it and you shiver at the cold air that seeps in under your clothes.

“Maybe not”, he says, smiling down at you. “I think we better get in the tent, so I can warm you back up.”

\--

It’s much colder away from the fire and Frankie climbs into the sleeping bag with you; the two of you stripping down to your long underwear to keep off the chill. Positioning you on your back, he drapes his heavy body over yours, his leg swung over your hip, his arm resting heavily across your torso; the hem of your shirt stretched tight over his forearm as he creeps his hand up under the fabric, resting it possessively on your breast. He strokes the petal soft underside of it over and over, the motion soothing the both of you and you listen to his deep, steady breathing as he rests his head on your shoulder.

“I can’t imagine you with short hair”, you say, threading your fingers through the soft waves, gently pulling them away from his head.

“Yea”, he sighs, closing his eyes at the feeling of your nails dragging over his scalp. “I had to keep it so short for so long, I just let it grow out once I got the chance. I like it better this way.”

“I do too”, you reply, thinking about the rich brown strands that curl out around the sides of his hat, that rest against his neck, that drape over his brow. You love how silky his hair is, how thick. Pressing your nose to it, you inhale; you love the smell of his shampoo too – sometimes you open it in the shower and smell it; the steam mixing with the scent to envelope you in small space.

“Are you smelling my hair right now?”, he asks, looking up at you with a smile and you nod, quietly laughing.

“That’s okay”, he says, propping himself up on his elbow next to your head. “I smell yours too.”

He leans down to kiss you and you run your fingers through his hair again, brushing it back from his forehead, smoothing it over the crown of his head. He deepens the kiss, his hand on your breast squeezing you lightly and you tug on the long strands, pulling on them until he breaks the kiss.

“I like it long so I can pull on it”, you confess quietly, tracing the edges of his lips with your tongue. “When you eat my pussy, I like to pull on your hair.”

“I know”, he murmurs, opening his mouth so you can glide your tongue over his bottom lip. “I like it when you do that. I like when you pull on it hard, when you use it to push my face into your pussy.”

Kissing him deeply, you hook your leg around his, grinding your core against his thigh and he slides his hand around your side, slipping it down into your pants to cup your ass, pulling you tighter against him.

“I can’t fuck you”, you mumble against his lips, thinking about how you are still slightly sore from earlier, “but I do want you to make me come. Can you do that for me, Francisco? Can you make me come?”

“You know I can, baby”, he sighs into your mouth, rolling you onto your back. His fingers pull at your waistband, tugging your pants down around your hips.

“I’m gonna make you come with my mouth”, he says, the two of you working your pants down, kicking them off into the sleeping bag, “and then I just want to put my cock inside you for the night. Is that okay?”

You nod and he kisses you again before continuing.

“I’ll kiss it and make it better”, he promises, “I’ll make it so wet, and then I wanna sleep inside of you. I want you to keep me warm, baby.”

Yes, yes Frankie you sigh and he smiles. “You’re such a good girl for me, letting me put it in you. Letting me fuck you with my mouth.”

It’s not ideal, the way you have to open the sleeping bags and let the cold air in so he can slide down between your legs, but you can’t seem to care when his mouth is so hot and wet; the liquid warmth of his tongue gliding through your folds and up to your clit. He knows your legs are cold and he knows it’s late, so he tries to be thorough but fast, working his tongue quickly over your clit.

Frankie you moan, reaching down to push your fingers through his hair, Frankie I want it just like that and he loves to hear you say his name, he knows how you like it, knows exactly what he needs to do to make you come. This is his favorite; feeling you arch into his mouth, tasting your slick as it drips over his tongue, feeling the soft press of the inside of your thighs against his cheeks. He could stay here all night if you let him, would be content to make you come over and over with his mouth, but another night, he thinks; another night, when you are in your warm bed and the night air isn’t quite as cold.

Collecting saliva in his mouth and letting it roll down his tongue, he licks into you deeply, soothing the ache you have from earlier; from when he was too thick, the angle too tight as he fucked you. He can feel you flutter around his tongue, your thighs starting to tremble as he gently sucks on your clit and he knows you are gonna come soon, with the way your pussy is dripping into his mouth.

Tugging on his hair, you arch off the hard ground and into his mouth, grinding against his face and you cry out as loud as you want when you come; no one around to hear how you beg for him, how you almost sob with pleasure.

Your hands loosening on his hair, he pulls away to give your entrance one last kiss before stretching out alongside your body, pulling your back to his front as he zips the sleeping bag back up. Fumbling with his own pants, you feel his knuckles skate along the cheeks of your ass as he pulls himself out, his stiff cock immediately pressing between your legs.

He goes slow, scooting his hips closer to you as he lifts your leg over his and you feel the thick tip of him rest against you for a moment before he slowly pushes inside.

“Is this okay, baby?”, he asks and you nod, pushing your hips back onto his lap.

His firm thighs back up right behind yours, his lap fitted tight to your ass when he is all the way in and heavy inside you, he stays there, laying back down on the pillow, his hand creeping back up under your shirt to cup your breast.

The sleeping bag is toasty warm with your combined heat, his face pressed into your hair, his heavy arm draped over your side and you are slowly sliding into sleep when the rain starts again.

Soft pats at first, then heavier drops against the side of the canvas; the two of you press tight together and sleep.


	16. Top Gun

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Frankie, it’s just that you didn’t really like flying in general. The tight cramped spaces on planes, the turbulence, the way that you casually started sweating when you thought about how high in the air you were, the way you kept picturing the first episode of Lost.

He knew you didn’t like it and he didn’t take offense – he understood. It isn’t for everyone. But the more you thought about it, the worse you felt. This man you loved – his profession, his passion, the way he absolutely loved flying – how could you not share that with him?

\--

“I can’t tell you how excited I am that you finally said yes”, he smiles, pulling you close. His body is a firm press against yours as he wraps his arms around your waist; one hand resting on your lower back, the other skating down to cup your bottom. “It really means a lot to me, baby.”

“As long as you don’t quote Top Gun at me the whole time”, you teasingly scold, watching him smile even wider, his rich brown eyes bright in the sun.

“That’s not even my favorite movie”, he scoffs.

“It’s like, your second favorite movie”, you say, and he nods, shifting his hands to settle firmly on your hips. “I know your number one is –”

“--The Bodyguard”, you both say at the same time. 

“Oh baby, it’s so good”, he groans, squeezing you tight. “Whitney? Looking like that? When I was 17?” He shakes his head ruefully, a serious look on his face. “I never even stood a chance.”

“None of us did”, you reply, just as solemn.

The helicopter itself is a small thing, even smaller when you climb into your seat in the cockpit and he can see the look of trepidation on your face as you try to figure out the harness, your eyes repeatedly glancing at the broad windshield.

Turning in his seat, he helps you with the straps, easily reaching over in the open space between your chairs. The thick pieces of nylon running along either side of your chest and down, they hook into a belt around your lap, the final clip resting just over your mound and when he clicks it all together, he gives the inside of your thigh a pinch, winking at you.

Finding your headset, you slip it on as he buckles himself in and you watch him slide into “work” Frankie: his movements deft, sure as he straps himself in, his fingers running along the control panel, flipping heavy switches here and there. He is completely focused, a frown of concentration on his face as he prepares for lift off and you silently scold yourself for not saying yes to this sooner; this Frankie, in his element, is something like you’ve never seen.

You hold your breath when you lift into the air and he looks over at you, giving you a smile of reassurance. You smile tightly back, your fingers digging into the side of the leather seats at the lurch you feel in your stomach, watching the ground get further and further away. Okay, so maybe don’t look at that, you think, instead deciding to focus on Frankie and when you shift your gaze to him, you feel a jolt of arousal.

Oh god.  
You don’t know what you want to look at more: the harness digging into his torso, highlighting the broadness of his shoulders? The way he keeps checking controls above his head, the long line of his throat on display? The way he seems to be mumbling something to the helicopter itself; the mouthpiece of his headset resting just below his plush lower lip and you watch as he draws it into his mouth, his teeth resting on it for a moment before he mumbles again. Did he just mouth “baby”?  
“All this to look at and you still only have eyes for me, huh”, he teases and you feel a leak of slick soak into the crotch of your underwear at the way his voice sounds through the headset. Slightly muffled, definitely huskier, deep and rich as it crackles into your ear and you swallow thickly, shifting slightly in your seat before giving him an indulgent smile and rolling your eyes.

You do try to look out the actual windshield, you really try, but there is nothing out there that even holds a candle to the view inside. You watch the tight way he grips the throttle, his forearm flexing under the rolled sleeve of his flannel and when he presses down on the pedal with his foot, you close your eyes: the image of his taut thigh muscle straining under his pants burned into your mind.

“Are you okay, baby?”, he asks and you whimper, thankful that he can’t hear the noise. His voice; it’s going to drive you crazy.

“Yea”, you reply weakly, taking a deep breath and he is still frowning as he looks at you, glancing between the windshield and your face.

“We can land, if you want?”, he says and you quickly shake your head no. You want to do this for him, want him to share this part of his life with you and you really are impressed with his skills. You always knew he was smart, but it’s a whole other thing to see it in action like this. You swell with pride at watching him navigate, so confident in his motions, so at ease in the pilot’s seat. This man; your man – you couldn’t be prouder to be his.

Watching him turn the helicopter around, checking the dials again (oh god, his neck), the way he slowly pulls on the throttle (the tanned skin of his forearm, the muscles shifting under it), you think what has to be the most attractive of all is the competence: his clear command of the machine, the efficient, confident way he is completing his tasks.

Your stomach tight with arousal at how similar he is in bed, you only find yourself getting more turned on as you watch him pilot, staring at him until the ache becomes unbearable, the throbbing between your legs almost painful.

You hardly notice when you get back to the airport, the helicopter gently easing back down to the ground. All you can think about is how you need him right now, right here in this cockpit.

“Did you like it?” he asks, grinning over at you, but the smile slides off his face when he looks at yours; his eyes immediately darkening at the way you are looking at him. He knows this look, he’s seen it more times than he can count: when you watch him drive, when he makes coffee in the morning, standing at the counter in his t-shirt and briefs, when you watch him get dressed in the morning and when you reach up to rip off your headset, he does the same.

“Come on”, you mutter, pulling at your harness, the clips so tight you can’t quite get them undone and when you whimper in frustration, Frankie scrambles out of his own harness, coming over to help.

Kneeling by your chair, his fingers dip under the belt across your lap and you pull him in for a kiss; a groan from him into your mouth when he feels how desperate you are, how quickly you open up for him, your tongue sweeping through his mouth to brush against his own.

Deepening the kiss, his lips are soft against yours as he licks into your mouth and your belly jumps when his fingers skate along the inside of the belt, sliding towards the buckle. You think he is going to undo it, but when you feel the lap belt tighten over your hips, you break the kiss, confused.

“Frankie, I need –“, you pant, looking down at his hand where it grips the harness and he uses his other hand to tilt your chin up, forcing you to look at him.

“I know what you need”, he says, his hooded eyes watching you. Letting go of the belt and sliding his hand lower, his fingers press tightly between your legs and his eyes drift down to watch the way pull against the harness, your body trying to arch into his hand.

“I can’t fuck you in here”, he says, moving his thick fingers over your core, rubbing you through the cotton of your dress. He stops to pull your skirt up and you help him, dragging it up over your thighs and quickly guiding his hand back to where he had it. You cover his hand with yours, pressing him tighter against you and he smiles at how soaked the fabric of your panties is, the material sliding over your folds.

“Think you can come like this?”, he asks lowly, leaning in closer. “Can you come on my hand, baby?”

Your head presses against the back of the seat, the harness straps digging into your chest and when he slips two fingers under the soaked fabric, you breathe heavily through your nose and try to shift your hips closer as he dips them inside you, a pool of slick leaking out onto his fingers.

“You’re so fucking wet”, he says, looking down at his hand between your thighs, pushing his fingers into you with a stretch and you groan, opening your legs wider to give him more room.

“Is your pussy this wet from watching me fly?”, he asks, kissing the corner of your jaw, his lips molding around it before softly biting it, his teeth catching on the bone. His fingers are all the way in, sliding in easily down to the knuckle and you roll your hips against them as best as you can, your upper body still firmly buckled in.

Yes, Frankie you moan, fucking yourself on his hand and he scoots his knees closer, his warm, solid body caging you in, his tongue sweeping over the taut skin of your neck, his fingers pulling out before pushing back in; this time adding a third.

“Fuck”, you moan again and you feel him smile against your skin as the heel of his hand presses against your clit. Both of your hands rest over his, your fingers pressing his deeper, your legs open as wide as they can over the leather seat and his voice is deep and rich in your ear, just like it was in the headset.

“Three, baby? You need three?” He strokes you inside, the pads of this fingers dragging along your walls, your pussy so slippery and wet and hot, squeezing him tight as he talks. “I know they don’t fill this pussy as good as my cock would, but –”

Frankie, please you gasp, rolling your hips faster. He responds by increasing the pace of his fingers, his other hand delicately stroking the peak of your breast through your shirt before moving up to the harness strap, pulling it tighter. 

His cock throbs at the way you whine when he does that, so he tugs on the thick strap again and you are held fast against the seat, unable to move your upper body. Quickly reaching down, he tightens the lap belt and your hips are also now locked tight in place; his fingers stuck deep inside.

Replacing the heel of his hand with his thumb, he glides tight circles over your clit and since you can’t move your hips anymore, you are forced to take what he is giving you; his thick fingers stuffed with a stretch inside your pussy, the inside of your thighs slippery with slick.

He feels you clench down on him when he tells you how he is going to take you home and fuck you, or maybe he can’t wait that long, maybe he should just bend you over the seat and fuck you right here, right where anyone can see you.

“Do you want people to see how you like to get fucked? How you couldn’t wait until you got home?”

“Frankie, I’m gonna come”, you wail, clenching your eyes shut as you feel your thighs tense around his hand, your pussy gripping him as you bear down, the throbbing in your clit spreading through your hips as he rubs, rubs, rubs it. 

Do it, baby; come on my hand, come right fucking now, I wanna see you he whispers harshly, his heavy breath a hot gust over your neck, his thumb pressing down on your clit, his thick fingers flexing inside. Gripping your chin and guiding your face to his, he kisses you and when you come, he groans into your mouth at the way you clutch his hand tight against you, your thighs clamping shut around them, your pussy squeezing his fingers as you coat them with a hot rush of slick.

Keeping his mouth on yours, he can feel how heavily you are breathing as you kiss him, the sweet puffs of breath from you into him with small whimpers and his hand stays right where it is as he drags his thumb slowly over your clit, stroking every last wave out of your release until you loosen your thighs, pulling his hand away.

He brings his hand to his mouth, his lips wrapping around the digits with a soft groan as he sucks on them and you drop your head back against the seat, watching.

“You can be my wingman anytime”, he murmurs, dipping his tongue between the digits and you huff a laugh, your chest still heaving against the tight straps.

“I thought you said no Top Gun quotes”, you scold breathlessly, and he winks at you, reaching down to undo your harness.

As soon as you are out of it, you twist in your seat and cradle his body between your legs, the inside of your thighs pressing against his firm sides. He reaches to palm your ass, sliding you forward on the seat and you can feel how hard he is in his jeans; the heft of him resting against your sensitive core.

You cup him in your hand, your fingers slowly exploring the size of him, the thickness and his eyes drift shut, pushing his hips into your touch.

“Take me to bed, Francisco”, you whisper in his ear, squeezing his cock a little tighter, noting the shiver that rolls through his body at his full name, “or lose me forever.”


	17. Gratuitous Sex Scene

Walking in the door after work, Frankie calls out to you, announcing his arrival home. Tossing his keys into the bowl by the door, he pats his pockets down and dumps his belongs out: gum, wallet, phone. Hanging his hat up and toeing off his boots, he comes to find you, having never heard a response.

Padding down the hallway towards the bedroom, he hears the shower running – the steady stream of water gushing, a tendril of steam escaping out of the bottom of the door and he smiles, already pulling his shirt up over his head.

A heavy ache of arousal quickly settles low in his belly as he thinks about you in there and he can feel himself harden at the thought of your warm, soaked skin, water streaming over your naked body as you soap it; the suds gathering in bunches before gliding down the drain.

Removing the rest of this clothes and leaving them on the floor of the bedroom, he can already see it so clearly in his mind when he comes to join you, already feel your body sliding against his, your hand around his cock, maybe your mouth if you let him and then he pictures that – your pretty lips, that tongue that tastes him so well – and he decides he’s gonna ask you to fuck your mouth, palming himself briefly at the thought of that pink tongue covered in his come.

Opening the bathroom door, he is hit by a wall of heat, the thick air immediately pouring over his skin as the shower turns off.

“Damn”, he mutters, and you call out from behind the curtain.

“Frankie?”

“Yea, it’s me, baby”, he replies dejectedly, and you open the curtain, smiling when you see him.

“Oh, I’m sorry”, you pout, “Were you coming to join me?”

Pulling your towel off the hook next to the shower and wrapping yourself in it, you pad over to greet him. You see his cock, heavy between his thighs and you smirk, resting your hands on his sides, the skin smooth and warm under your palms.

“Looks like you were thinking about me”, you smile, leaning in to kiss him and he kisses you back, cupping your neck in his hands and brushing his thumbs along the line of your jaw.

“I was”, he replies, kissing you again, his lips fitting with yours. “I was thinking about you in there, about you washing your body.” Kissing you again, he slowly glides his hands down to your shoulders, settling his grip there. “This body that I love.”

Pulling back to look at him, you smile at how his waves are already starting to curl in the humid room, his skin flushed with heat, his warm brown eyes heavy lidded in their gaze on you. You rest your hand on his firm chest, placing your thumb against his throat and you watch him swallow; the pebbled skin working with movement when he speaks.

“You’re so pretty, baby”, he says lowly. Gently tugging on the knot of your towel, he flicks his eyes back up to yours. “Can I see?”

You let him pull the towel off, the plush fabric dropping to the floor and he hums in appreciation, his eyes raking over your exposed skin. You stand there and let him admire, watching as his eyes can’t settle on one place – your face, your collarbone, your breasts, your thighs. 

The longer he looks, the more you ache – he is so openly hungry for you, so blatant in his want and you watch as he unconsciously reaches for his cock; his thick fingers skating a circle around the head before slowly circling around the length of it.

“Turn around”, he softly orders, looking at the damp patch of hair between your legs. When you don’t immediately obey, he flicks his eyes back up to your face. “I said turn around, baby.”

You turn, facing the mirror and you can see your blurry shapes in the fogged surface; your smaller frame in front of his broader, golden one; the cap of his dark hair shifting in the mirror as he comes to stand behind you.

He presses his front to your back, leaning his weight into you and you brace your hands on the cool countertop, the wet porcelain sliding under your palms. He curls into the heat of your skin, his arms wrapping around the front of you, his hands seeking out your breasts and he presses his mouth against your shoulder, licking your clean skin before nibbling it, kissing it.

Palming your breasts, he feels the weight of them, squeezing them slightly before rubbing the pads of his fingers over the peaks, pulling on your nipples as he drags his mouth over your skin. His cock is pressed against your ass and he grinds it into the soft cushion of your cheek; the tip of it catching between your legs for a moment.

“I wanted to get in that shower with you, baby”, he murmurs into your ear, sliding his hands down over your belly, one hand curling around your hip, the other continuing down, his fingers skating through the soft hair covering your mound; continuing down further to cup you there. “I wanted to ask you to suck my cock.”

“I still will, if you want me to”, you reply slowly, your head fogged with lust, with the heat of the small room, with his voice. Your eyelids feel heavy, your limbs limp as the slow spreading warmth pools in your core and you tip your head back against his shoulder. “I’ll get on my knees right now, right in this bathroom.”

“I know you would”, he smiles, sliding the tip of his nose along your shoulder. His lips rest briefly against the damp nape of your neck, his moustache tickling your skin. “But you won’t be able to watch if you’re on your knees.” His mouth hovers by your ear, his husky voice making you shiver. “And I want you to watch.”

Bending forward, he presses his body flush against yours as he reaches out towards the mirror, swiping his hand over the surface. The steamed glass clears, just enough for you to see your reflections and you fix your eyes on Frankie; his flushed face staring right back at you. Nudging your ankle with his foot, you open your legs wider, leaning over the sink to rest on your elbows and you arch your back, pushing your ass back against his cock.

Resting his hands on your cheeks, he spreads you open and you watch him: his chest slightly heaving, his broad shoulders, his strong arms and when he slides his hand between your thighs, parting you for him, you let out a soft whimper.

“I love how wet you get”, he says almost to himself, resting the tip of his cock against your entrance before sliding it down to drag against your clit. “Are you this wet because you were thinking about sucking my cock?”

You nod slowly, your mouth dropping open slightly when he pulls himself back up to push the first inch inside, the thick head a delicious stretch before the rest of him follows, dragging along your walls as your pussy grips him.

“You’re always so fucking tight”, he groans, digging his fingers into your flesh as he pulls himself out before sliding back in and it’s impossible to look at anything else but him in the mirror; his stomach clenching with each thrust forward, his limp hair hanging over his brow as he looks down, watching himself disappear inside of you.

The first couple of thrusts are slow, getting you used to the fullness of him and when you open your legs wider, he thrusts in harder, the jolt of his hips sharp against your ass. You watch him as he spreads you open more with his broad hands, his pursed lips slack with pleasure, his eyes unable to look away from where he fucks into you. Watching his muscles flex with each stroke inside of you, it’s almost out of body the way you think about him, about how this is what he would look like fucking someone else and you feel yourself dripping onto his cock at the thought of it, almost painful with how aroused you are.

The heat of the bathroom is oppressive and thick, your bodies slick with sweat, your sounds echoing off the smooth tile and his strokes get deeper, harder when you beg him for more.

Sliding his hands up from your ass, he reaches down under your body and pulls you up, your back against his chest and he shuffles his feet forward, trapping you between the smooth counter and the hot, solid press of his body.

The edge of the counter digs into your hips with how tight he holds you against it and he pushes his cock into you, watching your face twist with pleasure in the mirror.

“Like this, baby?”, he asks, one arm braced around the front of you, the other gripping your hip as he shoves his cock inside your soaked pussy, “You want it like this?”, a soft grunt with each harsh, smooth thrust. 

You turn your head to kiss him and he sweeps his tongue through your mouth, his hips never stopping, his cock stroking deep inside. His lips press tight against yours, his urgent mouth stealing the breath from your lungs and you slide your hand up through his thick, sweat damp hair, holding him close.

“I’m gonna fill you up”, he pants, his lips brushing against yours with how you hold him in place. “I wanna fuck this pussy until I fill it up and then I wanna watch my come drip down these clean thighs, watch you” – a hiss when you moan, clenching down on him at the filthy words – “watch you get all dirty again just for me.”

You frantically nod, giving him one last kiss before pulling away from him to rest your forearms back on the counter.

“I want it harder, Frankie”, you moan, swiping your hand over the mirror again to see him more clearly, “Fuck me harder, baby; I need you to make me come.”

He groans at your request, curling his body forward over yours as he reaches his hand beneath you, seeking out your clit and settle your own hand over it; the two of you working it in tandem to rub tight circles against it as his cock fills you over and over.

Can you feel me, baby; I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come you tell him, your words sliding into a high pitched whine as your hips lock into place and he tells you he can feel it, that you always get so fucking wet before you come, that you always feel so fucking tight.

“I’m gonna fuck you through it”, he pants, resting his head against your shoulder, “I want you to come on my cock and – fuck”, he stops talking when you wail, coming hard around him, your hand pressing his fingers against your clit as your pussy clenches down, soaking him and it’s hard to pull out of you with how tightly you are gripping him, but he does, just an inch or so before sliding back in and and he listens to you cry out at the friction of his cock dragging along your walls, intensifying everything.

“Just like that”, he whispers, chanting to himself, continuing to move his hips, “Just like that. You feel so fucking good when you come, I –fuck –I’m gonna come inside you now, okay?”

Your head is hanging between your shoulders, your body wrung out from your release, but he wanted you to watch; wanted you to watch him fill you up, so he quickly settles his hand on your shoulder, pulling you up just enough for you to look at him in the mirror.

Your eyes are glassy, your expression wrecked, your mouth open just enough to see a peek of your pink tongue and he thinks about what he wanted to do originally, when he wanted to cover that pretty tongue with his come. He imagines it now, the milky liquid flooding into your mouth and past your lips, dripping onto your chin and he comes with a groan, snapping his hips tight against your ass as he spills inside you.

“Fuck”, he breathes heavily, his body rigid against yours, his hand clamped tight on your shoulder. “Fuck.”

Grinding his hips into your ass, he feels every last drop pump out into you, the mixture of his come and your slick flooding around his cock, spilling out where you are joined and he pulls you up into his arms, wrapping them tight around your body. Resting heavily against you, you feel him soften and slide out, the inside of your thighs immediately coated with what drips from your core and when he presses his thigh between yours, he lets out the softest whimper against your shoulder at the slide of his skin against yours.

“I feel”, he says, still breathing heavily, pressing a thick kiss to your damp skin, “I feel like I’m gonna pass out. It’s so fucking hot in here.”

You laugh and watch him smile in the mirror, his arms squeezing you tighter.

Turning your head, you delicately kiss the small patch of jaw where his beard doesn’t grow, then his cheek, then the corner of his eye; the pleasant wrinkles creased under your lips.

“I’m so happy you didn’t do that Psycho thing again”, you say, nipping at the corner of his jaw and he laughs, his belly shaking against your lower back.

“Yea”, he replies, slowly unwinding himself from you, thinking about how mad you were when he snuck into the bathroom one time while you were taking a shower and ripped the curtain open, making a stabbing motion with his hand. He had never heard you scream so loud, never seen you so angry. “That wasn’t the best idea, I guess.”

“But this was”, you reply, turning to face him. Reaching to curl a lock of his hair around your finger, you kiss him; a gentle press of your mouth, molding your lips against his. He hums in agreement, opening his mouth just enough for you to slip your tongue into it and he deepens the kiss, his hands resting on your back to pull you close.

The pads of his fingers slide against your skin, dipping into the small pool of sweat that has gathered on your lower back and he asks you if you wanna take another shower, this time with him.

“Always”, you reply, smiling against his mouth. “If there’s any hot water left.”


	18. Wrap Party

Missing the keyhole on the door, Frankie leans in close, peering at the lock before trying again and you laugh behind him, sliding your hands up under the hem of his t shirt, smoothing them over the warm, firm skin you find.

“I think you’re drunk, Francisco”, you hum, leaning in to nuzzle your nose through the soft curls over the nape of his neck and you slip your hands around his hips to press your fingers under the waistband of his jeans when he laughs, finally fitting the key in the lock.

“Maybe”, he agrees, tossing the keys on the table by the entryway before turning to face you, pulling you through the door. Kicking it shut, it slams louder than you think it will and he laughs again at your shocked face before pulling you in for a kiss. “Or maybe I couldn’t get the door open because someone can’t keep their hands to themselves.”

You hum in agreement, your fingers working on the button of his jeans as he slants his mouth over yours, deepening the kiss. You feel pleasantly lightheaded, from the alcohol or his mouth you aren’t sure, and you softly moan when he moves his mouth to your chin, your cheek, your jaw before settling it warm and wet on your neck, nipping at the skin.

“I wanted to fuck you so bad at that party, baby”, you tell him, pushing his hat off and dragging his shirt up and over his head, dropping both onto the living room floor. You smile at his mussed curls, his flushed cheeks, his bare chest and he nods in agreement.

“You almost did, in the bathroom”, he teases, lacing your fingers with his before guiding you down the hallway and you giggle, remembering the way you snuck upstairs when he did, the frantic way you felt each other over your clothes in the small room. The ceramic counter was cool underneath your ass, Frankie’s thick fingers pushing the damp crotch of your panties to the side as he worked the top buttons of your dress open, his mouth trailing over the swell of your breasts and you were close – _so close_ – to opening his jeans to pull him out when someone pounded on the door; the two of you laughing breathlessly. 

He’s finally out of his clothing now, the remaining articles dropped unceremoniously onto the floor of your bedroom and before you can lift your dress up and over your head, he pushes you down onto the mattress, climbing on top of your body.

It’s sinful the way he looks down at you right now, his rich brown eyes almost black when he pulls apart your knees and his broad shoulders open them wider, his face dropping down to rub his nose against the wet cotton over your pussy. He inhales deeply and you feel licks of desire spreading throughout your body; a hot, slick pool of arousal gathering at what he is doing.

“You smell so good, baby”, he groans, his skin feverish against the inside of your thighs, your calves. “I wanted this pretty pussy all night. Wanted to taste it like I like.”

You reach down to thread your fingers through his thick curls, the stubble on his cheeks and chin catching on your soft skin and on your panties as he skims the tip of his nose along your clothed seam and he inhales again before pressing a firm kiss over your entrance.

“Did you want that?”, he asks, the tip of his finger now stroking over the fabric, smiling at the obvious wet spot. “Did you think about my tongue inside you tonight? The way I fuck you with it?”

“ _Yes Frankie_ ”, you moan, opening your legs wider and you cry out when he moves your panties to the side, his tongue dipping into you; once, twice.

“Like that, baby?”, he murmurs between your legs, pushing his tongue inside of you again, again. “Like this?”

You can’t say anything, your mouth open in a pant while you focus on what he is doing, what he is saying. He knows exactly how this makes you feel, knows just how turned on you get by his filthy words and he knew what he was doing earlier that night too - uttering them to you as you got ready in the bathroom, as you drove over to your friend’s house, as he pressed himself against you in their kitchen and on the couch in the corner of the living room; endless filth being whispered into your ear.

“I wanted to bend you over that bathroom counter”, he confesses with a groan, his lips brushing against your skin. “I need you to bend over the edge of the bed, okay?.” 

You scramble to do what he says, your head empty save for those filthy thoughts and when your upper body is flush against the soft bedding, you moan softly at the feel of his warm, dry hands sliding up the back of your thighs, his hot breath ghosting over the skin. The side of his hand swipes over the soaked crotch of your underwear before he curls his fingers under the waistband, tugging them down and off and when the cool air hits your soaked folds, you whimper at the thought of him kneeling behind you, the look of hunger on his face you know is there as his hands splay over your ass, spreading you open for him.

His tongue is liquid warmth when it parts you, your hips jolting on the edge of the bed as you try to push back into his face and he opens his mouth wide, his bottom lip sliding over your clit, the curve of his nose teasingly pressing into you. Fisting the bedding in your hands, you beg him to fuck you already, a hot ache building in your core as he glides the tip of his tongue smoothly over your clit.

“I need to get you wet, baby”, he murmurs, letting his saliva pool in his mouth for a moment before drenching your folds with it, gathering it on his tongue before licking into you. “I need this pussy to be wet for me; to take my cock the way I want to give it to you.”

You shuffle your legs open wider, his grip on your ass getting tighter as he licks into you again and your eyes flutter shut, your breathing loud against the bed as you imagine what he means by those words – “ _the way I want to give it to you_.” You hope it means something rougher, something harder and as if he can read your mind, his grip tightens almost painfully on your skin while glides his lips over your clit before sucking harshly on it.

_Frankie_ , you beg, feeling a delicious warmth spread through your hips as a hot rush of slick leaks out of you and onto his mouth and he smiles into the wetness, giving you one last lick and kiss before standing up behind you.

Your belly is tight when anticipation when he nudges your feet open wider and taking himself in his hand, he presses his cock just barely into you before guiding it down, rubbing your clit with the thick, blunt head.

“Give me your hands”, he softly orders, a slight strain in his voice as he pushes the tip back into you and when you reach back, he circles your wrists with his hands, pushing them into your lower back; your body trapped and held in place.

“Are you ready, baby?”, he asks, slightly breathless and when he sees your head nod yes, he pushes all the way into you; his deeper, louder groan over your higher pitched one.

You can feel how wet you are when he pulls out and he can see it too, looking down at his glistening cock before pushing back in. The slick drag of him inside as he fills you makes you clench around him and you whimper at the thought of him holding your feet apart with his, at the way his broad hands are gripping your wrists.

Wanting this all night, ever since he saw you in the bathroom earlier fixing your hair, ever since he watched a drop of condensation from your beer bottle drip in between your breasts, ever since he felt the heat between your legs as you straddled his thigh at the kitchen table, ever since he _almost_ had you right where he wanted you in the bathroom, his strokes are hard and fast and he is fixated on the way your ass is bouncing on his cock; your dress pushed up and over your hips.

“ _I want it harder, Frankie_ ”, you whine, and his thrusts turn harsher; his hips slamming against your ass as he fills you with his cock; over, over, over.

“Like this?”, he pants, tugging on your wrists before quickly switching his tight hold to one hand, the other reaching up to grasp your hair, pulling your head slightly off the bed. “Like this?”

_Fuck Frankie_ , you cry, your eyes clenching shut as your pussy grips his cock. This is just how you wanted it, rough like this, his quick, filling thrusts stroking against something deep and you feel yourself bear down on his thick length at the obscene sounds in the room right now; your harsh pants, the slap of his skin against yours, the soft grunts he is making with every push inside.

_Keep fucking me just like this, I want it just like this_ you beg, the sound of it slightly muffled as he pushes you down into the bedding again, gently leaning his weight into the hold on your wrists and hair as his hips keep snapping into yours. He sees your hand flexing under his grip, your fingers reaching outwards and he lets go of your wrists, holding your hand in his as you squeeze back tightly.

For all the noise you were making, you are silent when you come, your lips catching against the comforter as you open your mouth in a choked moan, your eyes shut tight with a frown and he wants to move, _needs_ to move but he can’t with how tight you are gripping him; your hand gripping his just as tight.

When he can finally slide out of your wet heat, you lay there and catch your breath, your hands dropping limply against the mattress as he lets go of them and you want him to come too, deciding to do what he has been doing to you all night, knowing he likes the filthy words just as much.

“You gonna come inside me, baby?”, you coo, relishing in the low groan you hear from behind you. “You gonna fill my pussy up?”

You push yourself up on your forearms, turning your face to look at him and you feel a jolt of arousal at how utterly wrecked he looks.

“Or do you want my mouth?”, you ask, watching the way his chest heaves with effort, his eyes flitting between your face and where you are joined, watching his cock slide into you with a stretch. “Want me to get on my knees and suck your cock?”

Dropping back down on to the bed, you reach back and tug your dress higher, the fabric of it pooling over your lower back and as he pushes into you again, you ask him if maybe he wants to come _on_ you.

“Come on my ass”, you softly moan, arching your hips to force him deeper with his next thrust inside. “Or come on my pussy and lick it up, just like you like.”

It’s _this_ one that breaks him, his broad hand pushing down on your lower back as he pulls out of you with a groan. His hand splayed over your skin to hold you in place, you can hear the fast strokes, half a dozen before he comes with a loud groan; the hot, milky liquid splashing over the curve of your ass, over your soaked pussy.

Dropping heavily to his knees, his forehead rests against the back of your thigh for a moment while he catches his breath and his hot breath tickles your skin before his tongue sweeps over it, collecting the thick liquid.

He lets out a deep sound of contentment at the taste, the low hum vibrating against your folds when he licks them and you reach your hand back with a smile, pushing your fingers into his soft curls, pulling him closer. He nips at the curve of your ass, softly biting the plush skin there and you can feel him smile against your skin before he stands up, pulling you up and back.

“I think we better take this dress off”, he mumbles against your neck, pulling the fabric higher and higher, up and over your head. You still feel slightly clumsy from the liquor when you turn around and pull him down on top of you and he drags his mouth over your skin, his heavy weight resting between your legs.

“Fuck me again, Frankie”, you softly moan, grinding against his lap and he laughs breathlessly into your mouth, his cheeks stretching with a smile.

“I think I need a minute”, he says, reaching down to push your legs open; his thick fingers spreading you, sinking into you, filling you. “I’ll fuck you with my hand though. Can you come again, baby? Can you come on my fingers for me? I know the way you like to taste yourself after – can you do that for me?”

You close your eyes with a smile, his low, soothing voice filling your head – _always with the filth_.

“Yes, Frankie”, you gasp, grinding against his hand. “ _Yes.”_


	19. Sound Effects

The trip had been Frankie’s idea and as his truck followed the winding line of the coast, your tiny teardrop camper hooked to the back, you were so happy he thought of it.

Scooting as close to him as you could on the bench seat while staying buckled in, your fingertips trailed around the curve of his ear, up through the soft curls behind it and you admired his profile against the blue of the distant ocean; the crisp breeze floating in through his window as he drove along.

He’d done it before – back before he met you, when he would go on solo camping trips – and over the low music of the radio, he told you how excited he was to do it now with you. Reaching for your hand with his own, he held it close to his mouth, his lips just brushing along the heel of it for a moment before giving it a kiss.

“The sound of the ocean at night, baby. It’s like nothing you’ve ever heard.” He looked over at you, those warm brown eyes you love crinkling around the edges in his excitement; those loose curls twisting in the wind. “You’ll see.”

–

Backing the truck up into a spot along the edge of the beach, Frankie twisted in his seat, one hand on the wheel to guide the camper neatly into place, the other resting on the back of the bench and when he caught you looking at him, he smiled with a wink.

“You’re supposed to be admiring the view of the ocean”, he gently teased, your eyes still lingering on his torso through his soft t shirt and you could hear it through the windows; the sound getting louder when you both stepped out of the truck.

Entwining your fingers with his, he led you down to the edge of the water, the waves lapping over the sand, over the tips of your shoes and when you discarded them with a careless drop (one, two) he joined you, also discarding his clothing down to his briefs; the black fabric tight and high on his thighs.

“There isn’t anyone around, baby”, he murmured, pulling you in for a kiss. “Come swimming with me.”

His fingers already curling under the hem of your shirt, he helped guide it up and off before pushing on the band of your shorts and when you dropped those into the sand, he led you into the water.

The waves crashing over your feet, then your shins, then your thighs, you shrieked when the cold spray hit your belly and he pulled you under the surface with him; your bodies pressed tightly together under the churning water. 

Your limbs floating and dancing under the waves, your feet left the sand as the water pushed and pulled and he kept you close; his firm grip holding tight on your hips, skimming over your back when you turned to wind your legs around his waist.

The rhythmic crashing of the waves, the distant call of the seagulls, the muffled sound of Frankie’s voice in your ear as he braced you for the next wave and then later, the soft sound of the sand under your feet, the crackling and popping of the beach fire, the echo of your laughter through the dusk when his marshmallow dropped into the flames, the disappointed groan he let out when it did it.

You can still hear the waves now, your camper window opened and facing the dark beach and the tiny space is filled with the cool breeze off the water; a welcome feeling over your sweat damp skin as Frankie opens your legs wider with his broad shoulders; his mouth a blazing, liquid heat between your thighs.

The two of you barely fit on the bed together, the thick quilts you brought pushed to the side to form a sort of nest while he made his way down your body, his mouth pressing against your flushed skin – up over the line of your collarbone, down the center of your chest, skating over your ribcage, the curve of your hip, the tops of your thighs.

His mustache a tickle against you, that sparse beard catching on the delicate skin of your inner thighs, you closed your eyes and focused on the way his tongue parted you; a firm, wide lick up from your core to your clit before lingering there, the tip of it skimming a gentle circle around the bundle of nerves.

 _Frankie, just like that_ you beg, your body arching up off the hard mattress and into his mouth and when your feet leave the solid surface to rest on his upper back, it’s just like earlier in the waves; the way you float away with the intense feeling, getting lost in it.

His hands hold you in place, his fingers digging into the plump flesh gathered around your hips and he smiles in your wet heat when you reach down to curl your fingers into his hair, pulling him closer.

 _Make me come, baby, make me come_ you chant in a whisper to yourself, into the dark camper, up at the curved, low ceiling and the soft rustle of the sheets joins the sound as Frankie grinds his cock into them, seeking relief while your thighs tense around his cheeks. He groans into you, the vibration of it flowing through his lips as they suck on your clit before pressing a kiss to it and everything is so _wet_ – his hot mouth, his slick tongue, your pussy when you finally come – the liquid heat flooding into his mouth.

Climbing up from between your thighs and guiding you onto your stomach, he settles himself between your legs, pushing one of your knees up and to the side with his and his body is a hot, heavy drape over your back.

“I wanted you to hear the waves”, he mumbles against your shoulder, “Can you hear them?”

You can, the window of the camper at bed level and you focus for a moment on the distant roll of them, the soothing crash of them against the shore. It _is_ like nothing you’ve heard before – that recognizable, relaxing sound in the dark – and when he guides himself into you, you drop your head down between your shoulders, a quick inhale at the full stretch of his cock inside you.

His forehead rests between your shoulder blades, his curled locks brushing against your skin and when you reach back to cup the crown of his head, his lips rest against your ear, filling your head with his low voice as his hips rock forward; the strokes deep and filling.

“Listen, baby”, he tells you, the rhythm of his hips matching the waves and for every one that crashes on the shore, he pushes deep inside. You try to listen, your eyes closing tight to focus but the only thing you can hear are the soft grunts Frankie makes with every thrust forward, the deep groan that he lets out at how you feel right now, the pant of his heavy breathing, the damp heat of it ghosting over your temple.

Pushing your knee up higher on the mattress, he grinds his hips into your ass and you softly whine into your pillow. His weight on top of you is pushing you deeper into the hard mat, the firm pressure against your clit building a deep ache inside that his cock is soothing and your moan is muffled when he traces the shell of your ear with his tongue.

“You feel so fucking good”, he whispers over the sound of the ocean, his hips increasing their pace. “Your pussy is always so fucking wet.”

“ _Frankie, please_ ” – the bliss in your core building higher, higher, your fingers tightening in his thick waves – “Frankie, I’m gonna come.”

“I want you to”, he pants and when your hand leaves his hair to twist into the cotton sheets, he settles his over the top of it, pressing his fingers between yours to hold it in place. “I want you to come on my cock, baby. I know you can do it.”

It’s _so much_ – his deep voice rumbling from his chest, his harsh pants, his low groan when your walls squeeze him tight, the choked hitch in his breathing when you start to come and beyond all of it, the distant crashing of waves – and when you come, all of the sounds suspend and you hear nothing; the intensity drowning out everything else. 

You have _never_ come like this, something about the way his weight is settled on top of you right now, his firm chest pressed against your back as he holds himself tight inside and he normally likes to fuck you through it when you come, but he can’t move with how hard you are squeezing his cock.

“I’m gonna come”, he groans against your hairline and that’s the first thing you hear when the sound comes back to you; the strained urgency in his deep voice making you clench around him again. “I’m gonna fill you up.”

 _Do it, do it_ you mumble against the pillow, your lips catching against the fabric as your back arches to get him deeper and his hand flies down to your hip to hold you in place when he does it, pining you against the bed as he spills deep inside.

Relaxing into you, he presses thick kisses against your temple, the curve of your shoulder, the dip between your shoulder blades before resting his forehead there, catching his breath and for a moment, the two of you lay together, sated and limp.

Settling in next to you on the tiny bed, he drapes the soft quilt over your bodies before curling into your heat, resting his head on your chest. Stroking the buttery soft skin on the underside of your breast with the pads of his fingers, he eventually falls asleep; the slow, comforting sound of it making you smile.

Brushing his hair back from his temple, you close your eyes and wind a dark curl around your finger while listening to the waves in the distance crashing, crashing, crashing.


End file.
